Breaching the Forgotten
by Ethelinda's Window
Summary: Snape is slowly losing his sanity and the repercussions are dreadful. Can Harry, Ron and Hermione save him? No? What about Neville, then? Based in 6th year; AU since then. Rating is for caution.
1. Prologue: A Most Excellent Surprise

Disclaimer: Don't own anything. Even my OC, who is NOT a MarySue. S/he evolved from Jonathan Stroud's The Amulet of Samarkand.

My poem, though.

**Breaching the Forgotten**

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A Most Excellent Surprise

The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, highlighting the misty vapours that hung around their feet.

He kept his eyes firmly on the path in front of him, making sure he would not trip…again. His left hand held tightly a lantern that she had supplied him with, while his right hand was enveloped in another, firmer grasp that would pull him forward whenever he lagged behind.

"Keep up," the owner of the hand would mutter at regular intervals. He was running out of breath, easily taking two steps to her one, but sped up nonetheless.

After a while, a hidden root managed to attack his foot, and he stumbled, only being kept from falling on his face by the firm grasp, whose owner immediately stopped walking and turned to him. She pointed her wand, lit with 'lumos', at his face.

"Honestly, Severus Do you think it remotely possible that you could remain on your feet for the next five minutes?"

He looked solemnly at his feet, but only for a moment.

"Mother says you're not allowed to do magic by yourself until you're seventeen, and you're not even ten yet!" The girl clicked her tongue in exasperation and rolled her eyes.

"Well _my _mother told me I could, so there!" She turned abruptly, once more resuming her usual brisk pace.

He considered for a moment asking if they could exchange mothers, but was soon distracted by having to stare intently at the path in front of him, as tree roots seemed to appear out of nowhere. Although, this was not the only reason he kept his eyes averted from the surrounding trees and brush. The real reason was…that is to say, he wasn't exactly _afraid_ of the forest…

Almost as if she's sensed his thoughts, the older girl tugging on his hand began to softly hum a familiar tune.

He blocked it out, the horrible thing, and tried to think of something else. But then, the girl began to add words to the tune, and he felt distinctly more uncomfortable.

"My mother said I never should,  
stray near the beastslings in the wood," she sang.

He whimpered slightly, but she took no notice.

"For if I do, with hat and sack,  
I can be sure I won't come back!"

"Ann!" He barely whispered in a voice nonetheless filled with tension. Certainly not fear, though, he wasn't afraid.

She ignored him and kept singing.

"For in the woods, the beasts they play,  
and this they do both night and day.

They'll cut your skin and eat your eye,  
And leave your body out to dry."

Horrible images entered into his mind. They weren't so scary when singing the song in the comfort of a bedroom, but while he was actually _in_ the forest at the current point in time…

"They'll suck your brain out through your nose-"

"Ann!" he wailed louder, that particular line being his least favourite.

"And have themselves a feast of toes!"

"Ann! Please! Stop!" He could feel the panic rising inside of him. Her voice was so loud now it would inevitably alert whatever creatures were residing in this forest that they were about.

"Your head will end up in the Thames-  
The rest will end up scorched in flames!"

A pathetic little sob escaped his mouth and he felt hot tears well up in his eyes. The girl looked sideways at him, smirking.

"You afraid then?" she asked mockingly.

He caught himself, and suppressed his tears, shaking his head furiously.

"Of course not," she muttered just loud enough for him to hear.

They continued through the forest; how long or far he didn't know. The path was becoming thinner now, less worn. Not many people came out here, and far less at night. For a good reason, probably.

The trees became thicker, and the light subsequently drew back. Likewise, the warmth of the area shrank away until he found himself reluctantly shivering.

"Sure you're not scared then?" she asked again, daring him to reveal his weakness. He suppressed his shivering and answered back in what he hoped was a confident sounding voice.

"No."

She smirked again, but said nothing more.

After a few minutes longer, Ann suddenly stopped walking and spun around to face him, and he almost ran headlong into her.

"Okay, Severus, from here on in, you must be absolutely silent. Alright?"

Severus nodded, but his eyes grew wide at the request. Why, exactly, was silence called for?

Seemingly satisfied, Ann took a deep breath and exhaled while turning around. Slowly now, they crept into a small clearing, however, it seemed to be occupied by one very out-of-place, gigantic Mulberry tree, directly in the centre.

"Alright, Severus," she whispered, "Up we go."

Ann shed her outer cloak and deftly began to climb the towering tree. Severus watched her go and swallowed hard, before dropping his own cloak to the ground, threading his arm through the lamp's handle and trying his best to scale up the limbs.

"Come _on_, Severus," she stressed in a whisper, moving further up the tree.

Severus' brow furrowed as he became slightly annoyed, "I'm slightly _smaller_ than you are," he whispered back to her, still wondering why they were whispering, "and I'm carrying a lantern, so excuse me if I take slightly longer than you!"

Anne rolled her eyes and continued climbing, with a now adamant Severus following her up.

Finally, Ann stopped climbing, and waited somewhat patiently for Severus to reach where she was.

"Took your time," she couldn't help but mutter as he finally clambered up the last branch.

"Umm, Ann?" he whispered, his earlier annoyance forgotten and replaced with slight trepidation, "We're quite high up…"

"Of course we're high up," Ann sighed, "We're in a _tree_."

"And why exactly are we in a…" Severus' words were brought to a halt as his eye caught onto a small moving figure not two feet to the left of his face.

It was a strange looking creature that was nestled into a large nest, with a face, body and wings like a dragon, two bird-like legs and a barbed tail.

"It's a…it's a Wyvern!" Severus forgot he was perched precariously high above the ground, as his eyes grew wide with wonder at the magnificent creature.

"It's just a baby," Ann explained quietly, "but wait 'till it gets bigger, if you play your cards right, it just might like you."

Severus smiled, he had heard that if you were on good terms with a Wyvern, they could be rather helpful companions.

He was about to turn and ask Ann to how she had discovered the creature, when suddenly, a howling sound broke through the forest.

Severus forgot all about the Wyvern, and looked panic-stricken to Ann, however, he now couldn't see her face, as she had dropped the lumos spell from her wand.

Once again, a haunting howling sound emanated from somewhere below them. Immediately, Ann turned around hissed "Turn out the light!"

Severus fumbled with lamp, but by this time he was shaking so much, his fingers couldn't quite grasp it properly.

"Severus!" Ann reached for the lamp herself, but in doing so, managed to dislodge the lamp from Severus' grasp. As if in slow motion, Severus watched the lamp, still lit, fall softly through the branches. Moments later he flinched as it inevitably came into contact with one of the boughs and smashed, leaving them in darkness.

Ann and Severus froze.

Now the only light came from the moon that had recently come from behind the clouds. A large, conspicuously round and most definitely _full_ moon.

"Severus," Ann whispered.

"Yes?" He timidly replied.

"We have a problem."

It wasn't exactly the reassurance he was hoping for.

Things didn't get much better after that. After waiting in silence for about half a minute, Severus heard something that made his blood run cold. It was a scraping, scratching noise, accompanied by heavy breathing.

By this time, Severus' eyes had become accustomed to the dim light, and he saw Ann's face clearly; it was a picture of fear.

"Ann?" He whispered, his voice trembling, "Can werewolves climb trees?"

Ann didn't answer, but after staring down into the darkness and hearing the scraping coming decidedly closer, he had his answer.

The children did the only thing they could do; they climbed. Up and up, they remained as silent as they could, with only the moonlight to guide them, although when Severus looked down and saw the glowing eyes below, his shock wore off, giving way to pure terror.

He screamed and the werewolf pounced. Ann joined in the screaming, and soon, the forest exploded with screams, howls and screeches. Severus scrambled away as best he could, this time away from the centre of the tree. He searched for Ann, but his vision was clouded by a pounding red. He no longer knew what he was doing; he just knew he had to get away, and now.

The branches shook, but he kept moving. The howling was becoming louder, but at this point he didn't know whether it was coming from the werewolf, or from his own throat.

A small part of his mind recognised the agonising wail of Ann, somewhere in the boughs behind him, but it was soon pushed out of his notice as his grip on the branch he was on slipped, and he fell.

His hands grasped wildly and the numerous branches rammed into his body before he was finally able to come to a halt, still in the arms of the tree.

"ANN!" he screamed in blind terror. Tears were streaming down his face. The wind had picked up now, pulling at his small body and threatening to tear him from the branches. And, just as he had ordered, Ann appeared.

He noticed the eyes first, and at that point, he felt a warm gush of liquid flowing down his inner thigh, but was only vaguely aware of it. He knew he was dead.

The glowing red eyes belonged to Ann, the neighbour and friend he had known forever and whom he had come to look up to. She stalked towards him through the branches on all fours, hair and robes billowing, an evil smile on her face, if you could call it a face. It was as if all the life had been sucked from her and she was now only a skeleton covered in skin and sinew. Her cherub face had been replaced with a sight more horrifying than he could have imagined.

She let out a shriek so terrifying he thought his head would explode.

Then, as he could hold on no longer, his body fell into the darkness.

He screamed, a wild shrieking cry and awoke with an incredible start. His heart was beating insanely fast and his breathing was hard. It took him a few moments to realize why and another few to wonder if he had actually cried out. His throat felt slightly tender, so he supposed he may have.

He slowed his breathing to an acceptable rate and fell back down into the pillows. Where had that come from? He hadn't thought about that old childhood memory for years, and now, unbidden, it had risen from who knew where and asserted itself fiercely into his mind.

Pulling himself out from under the rumpled covers he made his way towards the bathroom, somewhat vaguely noticing a cockroach scuttle across the floor and into a cupboard. He would deal with that later. Splashing his face with cold water he regarded himself in the mirror, though somewhat regretted it a few seconds later. His face was gaunt and pale, accentuated by the curtain of black framing it. He felt almost as horrible as he looked, and gave himself a grimace before crawling back into bed.

He lay awake, remembering the aftermath of that certain event which took place many years ago. He must have passed out at that stage, because the next thing he remembered was waking up in his own bed, being tended to by his mother, who caressed his forehead with cool towels. He had not eaten for two days and two nights, and did not leave his bed for a week.

He had never seen his young neighbour again, and after telling his mother what he remembered, he never spoke of her again. No one did, although words like possession were whispered through cracks when they thought he couldn't hear. Anne's family seemed to just disappear into nothingness, and soon it became as if she had never existed.

Almost.

It was his first true lesson, one that could not have been learnt from books or garnered from telling, and its shadow clung to him for years. It still clung to him now, but the specifics, the details had seeped into the abyss of the forgotten, forcibly removed from conscious memory. Until now.

Yes, now he remembered, in full technicolour, the horror of events that plagued him that day. How quickly events had turned, and how they never turned back. His head pounded with memory, threatening never to leave him again.

But as he lay in the darkness, he knew that the memory would fade. That it would be pushed to the back of his mind just as it had been all those years ago. But for now, his mind replayed the night that began when a six year old boy was awoken in the middle of the night to the promise of a most excellent surprise.

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Reveiws are always welcome! But read the next chapter first... : ) 


	2. Chapter 1: Master and Commander

Disclaimer: Still don't own anything.

AN: Throughout this story, I'll be swapping perspectives. Hopefully it doesn't become too confusing, but I just want to stress again - NOT a MarySue.

This will be a rather long story…it will liven up, I promise.

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Master and Commander

Thick black smoke vomited directly upwards from the floor to the ceiling. It spiralled ferociously, like the funnel of a tornado. Bolts of lightening crackled in and around the circle that had been ornately drawn on the floor and in which the viscous column of smoke now spewed forth.

The temperature dropped rapidly and icicles began to form on the curtains. Snake like tendrils slithered their way from the column towards the figure standing in the centre of the room.

Long skeletal arms reached forwards ominously, impossibly thin and grotesquely deformed. They accompanied the smoke tendrils reaching towards the figure standing in the other circle.

Red eyes materialized in the column, wild and manic. They stared at him, the figure, with lust and hunger. They bored down on him like a predator eyeing its prey. They-

Oh.

The whole spectacle evaporated into an abashed looking, rather cute, blond-headed, cherubic little girl who looked approximately ten years old.

"Albus." I must admit, this was unexpected.

He looked at me over half-moon glasses, that all too familiar twinkle in his eyes.

"Ann." He said, just as nonchalantly, as if we had just sat down for tea. A few seconds passed.

"Long time no see," I pulled the phrase out of some random memory to do with muggles. He smiled.

"It has indeed been a long time Ann."

The pleasantries were getting to me.

"Okay, that's it, enough, please. It's not as if I call you Albie or anything, is it?"

He somewhat chuckled.

"Aha'niheshka," he embellished with what sounded like remarkably regal acclaim.

I bowed my head. "Thank you."

He smiled again, then his face fell somewhat. This was never going to be easy.

"So," I picked up the conversation, "I have a feeling this isn't merely a social call."

Another humanism I'm afraid. Hanging around with such creatures can really have an effect on even the most powerful and noble beings. No offence.

"I'm afraid," he said in his mystical way, "that we are in need of your assistance."

I almost rolled my eyes. I would have if it had been anyone else standing in front of me. What on earth could a wizard want with a creature like me if it was not assistance? Instead, I settled for a curious kind of look that I'm sure looked very endearing on the face of the little girl I was currently in the form of.

He continued, "I realize you are…acquainted with Severus Snape." Ah…duh. "What you may not know, however, is that he is in danger."

I tried to suppress a snort, but failed dismally. When was Severus ever _not_ in danger? The boy exuded some kind of aroma that called to every foul creature on the planet and seemed to scream 'eat me, eat me!'

"What I need, Aha'niheshka, what I wish, is that Severus be protected."

I sighed and remembered the good old days. The days when we were summoned merely to do another Wizard's dirty work. Those tasks were easy. When I had been summoned for this latest, I had expected to be sent to bring grave misfortune down upon another Wizard or Witch. A run of bad luck, perhaps, or an untimely death. It was not uncommon. How on earth do you think the battle of Troy was won? Wizards, and even muggles when I consider it, seem to find it an engaging activity, bringing harm to others of their own species. Nutters. The lot of them.

Protecting though…protecting is a little harder. It requires some cognitive application and a touch of skill, which I of course have in abundance.

I nodded, "Protect Severus. Sure. Got it. See you, then!" I made to leave. He was faster.

"Not just yet." He held up his hand. Drat.

"Severus must never know I have summoned you. Nor must anyone else." Hun. Like I was looking forward to that little reunion. The "not anyone else" was a bit superfluous. Summoning us Ifucaucins is a terribly dangerous thing to do, not to mention entirely illegal. Only very few amulets still remain in the wizarding world with which we can be summoned.

"You are to watch him. Observe. If he is to fall into any danger which may prove detrimental to his health in any way, immediate or otherwise, and which I would feel would warrant further assistance, you are to come and tell me immediately." Oh, goody, so I was to be Severus' babysitter. Again.

I might mention something here about Albus' prudent use of the phrase "in which _**I**_ would feel would warrant further assistance," which of course refers to himself. If it were left up to us to have feelings for or about humans, you would probably all be dead. We really couldn't care. Nothing personal.

"If I am somehow unavailable to contact, you must remain by him and continue to observe, keeping him as safe as possible until I return." Yes, yes, whatever, get on with it.

"If he or anyone else discovers who you are, despite your attempt to remain anonymous, you are to follow his, or their, every instruction." This one made my stomach drop. Following orders from Severus. Great.

"Will that be all?" I hoped it would be.

"There is one piece of information which I think it quite pertinent that you be aware of." (Rather verbose, don't you think?) "Another Jinn such as yourself has been summoned. His instructions also pertain to Severus. They are, as I believe, to destroy him."

Ho hum. This other Jinn had a far more enjoyable and easy task.

"Really. How?"

He sighed and shook his head. "I only wish I knew."

He was silent for a while, perhaps lost in thought. "Thank you Ann. You are dismissed."

I had the opportunity to hang around and laugh at his polite attitude. (Honestly, did he think I was going to do this out of the goodness of my heart? I did this out of the protection of my own skin. Not that I actually have skin, or a heart for that matter, but that's not the point. To disobey an order, a wish, could practically rip a Jinn's essence to shreds.) This opportunity, however, I let fly by my head, and quickly took my leave.

So here I am again. Hogwarts. The place hasn't changed since last time, not that I was expecting it to. Magic folk seem far less interested in anything deemed 'progress' than their muggle counterparts.

I was so caught up in my thoughts on various matters of differing importance that I wasn't watching where I was going and ran headfirst into a suit of armour.

Something symbolic in that.

Doing a once-over of the place and becoming familiar with the majority of the staff, I decided to find Severus.

I made my way down to the dungeons still in the form of Ann, the girl of which he had become petrified of many years ago, though I knew no one would see me due to the fact that it was midnight. I changed into a cockroach when I came to his personal quarters, making the wards easy to pass.

I slipped under the door and made my way to what was obviously his bedroom. Here, I stopped near the side of the bed and decided to establish exactly what he knew about Ifucaucins, or as you humans like to call us: Demons (though we are far more noble than the term would suggest). If there was a Jinn after him, I needed to know whether he could pick up the signs. And also of whether he would discover my presence.

A Jinn's ability to invade a human's mind is nothing like the blatantly unsubtle attempt of wizard's Legilimency, which is like bulldozing down the Great Wall of China. We, however, are Masters. If there is a crack in the defences we can slip right though.

So I began to probe. At once I could tell he was brilliant at Occlumency. His defences were impeccable, for a human, and this was when he was asleep. The aforementioned defences, however, were really just an annoyance. I made my way through a gauntlet of mental blocks, slipping through cracks and over hurdles. I am rather good at this, I must say, though I did hit a good deal of dead ends. I began to wonder what exactly warranted such a thorough defence structure.

Then, I came upon what I was looking for. Memories. They were embedded in the outer most shell of his defences. Recent, and entirely boring. The latest classes, meals and detentions.

I did not spend long ruminating on these; they were not what I wanted. Earlier memories were to be found much farther into his walls of defence. I pushed further, skirting through shell after shell of blocks. I almost admired the intricacy. It was better than any I'd come across in a human.

Nevertheless, I discovered what I needed to. It seemed that after the event in which he was scared out of his wits, he knew nothing more of Ifucaucins until he began to study Occlumency. He was never even given the amulet.

Strange when you think about it. I was about to probe further to discover why the amulet had not fallen into his possession, when I discovered another memory, to which I reckoned, was far more interesting.

This memory was embedded quite far into the Forgotten, like a lemon drop in a sea of hardening toffee. Careful to stay away from the undulating, golden glow of the Forgotten, I delved into the memory, and was able to re-experience a rather exciting display (if I do say so myself) of an event that transpired many years ago.

It is always interesting to watch a memory from another's perspective. There were subtleties I had not noticed while originally preoccupied with scaring him out of his wits. He had truly been excited, for example, to see the Wyvern, and his climbing skills were none too bad, given that he was six. And I had not realized that in the moment of my appearance on the branch (quite a nice touch, don't you think?) he had wet himself. I wasn't surprised, though. As I say, he _was_ six.

A gigantic BOOM resounded through my essence. With a start I realized – I had been discovered! Withdrawing as fast as I could, I whipped back through the boundaries and walls he had constructed. As I flew (metaphorically, of course) I could feel the wave of consciousness engulf my probe. It was then that I realized that I had not been discovered, but that he had woken. I slowed, and lingered a little, testing to see if he would be aware of my presence. He was not.

This was not surprising, only very few humans are aware of a Jinn probe if they are not warned.

Before I slipped back into the cockroach's body, I made a flash decision, and altered a small section of his conscious memory. I became aware of my surroundings just in time to notice a sudden change in light.

He was about to step on me! I scuttled across the floor and into a cupboard.

I waited until I sensed he was once again asleep before scuttling back under the doors and into the corridor. Turning into a house elf, I padded towards the kitchens. I had received what I had come for.

But his blatant lack of ability to detect a Jinn, even one so skilled as I am, in his mind made me nervous. It meant he wouldn't be able to detect this other one who was supposed to destroy him and that would make it harder to render my order served. But what could I do?

Wait, I suppose. And that's exactly what I did.

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Please review, even if it's to constructively criticise! 


	3. Chapter 2: Unexpected Potions

Disclaimer: I can partially lay claim to some of this chapter's contents. But not really...

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Unexpected Potions

The students had only a moment, but it was all they needed. The routine followed before, during and after potions class was now thoroughly ingrained within them that they hardly had to think anymore. While waiting for their Professor, they would bustle about, taking books and quills from their bags while chatting idly, though not loudly. They would all have one ear towards the door. Even those with the best hearing and seated closest to it would not hear the footsteps, only the grabbing of the handle before it was thrust open. And this was the just moment they needed.

Communication would cease mid-sentence, and silence reigned a full half second before the ominous billows of robes made their way towards the front of the class.

Today was no different.

Harry and Hermione sat beside each other, altogether unimpressed by the now traditional entrance. It may have frightened them as first years, though they were so used to it now after five years, they merely waited, along with the rest of the class, for the ubiquitous ingredients to appear on the board.

Instead, however, the Professor merely turned to glare at the class for a little longer than usual.

"Tell me," his voice rang around the room. "What do you know about Demons?"

This certainly took many by surprise. Was this not more of a Defence Against the Dark Arts topic? The students looked at one another, though no one moved.

Finally, though, a solitary hand rose slowly to teeter precariously in the air, almost as if the owner did not particularly wish it to be seen.

Half a sneer crossed the Professor's face.

"Why am I not surprised? Yes, Miss Granger?"

Hermione had been in two minds about whether to put her hand up. She had learnt long ago that to display her knowledge freely in front of their Potions Master was a quick and easy way to loose house points. Not that she cared much for them now anyway, though it could still make her exasperated.

"Demons," she began cautiously, "Were once summoned by many wizards and used as servants. They could be confined to this world for an infinite amount of time, residing in an object, usually an amulet." She hesitated a moment, though Snape did not speak, not even to deduct points, he only continued to stare at her. Encouraged, she continued.

"Their summoning reached a peak in 1562, however, their abundance almost led to a great war due to the nature of tasks the summoners were giving to the Demons. Subsequently, the Ministries of the world conducted one of the largest raids ever documented, and confiscated every object known to house a Demon. They also destroyed every piece of knowledge relating to the primary summoning, which is the summoning of a Demon from Ifurin, their place of origin, so they could no longer wreak havoc on our world.

It was also said that Ifurin's gate, the only way a Demon can come or go between our world and theirs, was sealed by powerful magic."

Hermione stopped to take a breath, curious as to why she was able to go on for so long without a biting remark from the Professor. There was a little more information that she knew, although she debated about whether she would just be inviting a remark about being a know-it-all. Deciding enough was said, she did not continue.

The Professor continued to stare at her for a little longer, arms folded across his chest. After a moment, he pulled his wand from inside his robes and waved it towards the blackboard, where ingredients and instructions materialized. Only then did he speak.

"Miss Granger is correct," he announced to the class.

Harry and Hermione looked at each other, wide eyed, before hastily returning their eyes towards the front of the class. Neither had ever heard these words flow from his lips before.

"Upon the board are the ingredients for a potion used long ago to warn an individual of a Demon invading their body or mind."

Students gazed confusedly towards each other. How on earth could a potion warn of that?

"What Miss Granger failed to mention was that Demons can rarely exert any magical force upon anything. They attack an individual's mind. A Demon can make you hallucinate; they can distort your memories, plant thoughts and feelings into your head. They are creatures of an insidious nature, which can rarely be stopped. That is why this potion was created." He gestured towards the board while pacing in front of the class. "When taken, the individual is far more aware of their own thoughts and feelings, and they are able to detect any Demon invasion."

Professor Snape continued to eye his class. One bold Ravenclaw raised his hand, albeit timidly.

"But Professor, if Demons are no longer a problem, I mean, if the Ministry got rid of them all, why are we learning to make this potion?"

Snape inclined his head and narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps that is something Miss Granger would like to explain." His head swung around to meet her gaze.

She looked at him, utterly perplexed. Was he _asking_ her to display her knowledge?

"Well," she began, slowly, "It has been rumoured that a few objects containing Demons were never confiscated by the Ministry, that they're sill owned and potentially used today. Apparently, a seer, long ago, predicted that there would be a time when Ifurin's gate would be opened once more, and an army of Demons would be unleashed onto our world. This, of course, is also just a rumour, as no record of the vision has been found."

Snape nodded curtly, a movement that was barely noticeable, and continued himself, "Although there has been little activity of Demons in the last few centuries, it nevertheless pays to be vigilant."

Mad Eye's common saying filtered through Hermione's mind, and she suppressed a giggle while absently thinking that he would approve.

Snape said nothing more, except to instruct them to begin making the infinitely complex potion on the board in front of them.

The lesson passed uneventfully, with Snape not nearly paying as much attention as usual to the class' failings on one aspect of the potion or another. The class noticed his conspicuous lack of stalking presence, and a quite hum of conversation was risked.

"Not really with it today, is he?" Harry whispered to Hermione, motioning over his shoulder at the Professor who was currently at his desk, apparently engrossed with some material on a piece of parchment. Hermione knew his unspoken words were 'wish he could be a little less with it more of the time', but her brain had latched onto something and suddenly their Potion Master's odd behaviour became all the more peculiar.

After class, Harry and Hermione met up with Ron in the common room, where they had planned to dump their things and spend their lunch hour and coinciding free period around the Quidditch pitch. Harry noticed Hermione surreptitiously place a small book in the pocket of her cloak. No doubt about what she would be doing while he and Ron were soaring above the grounds.

Walking down the steps on their way to the entrance hall, Hermione commented on their Potion Master's choice of subject matter.

"I mean," she said, "I suppose it's not all that surprising. We have, on occasion, learnt about quite a few potions that we would probably never have to brew in our lifetime, the thing is, we were supposed to brew Doxicide today, he said so after last lesson."

"Hermione, don't take this the wrong way," Ron shifted his broom onto his shoulder, "but you listen way too much to what that man says. So he changed his mind. So what?"

Hermione gave him her exasperated look and sigh to highlight it, "I listen to him, Ron, because he's our teacher. And it wouldn't matter at all, except that in the five years that I have been in his class, he has never changed his mind about teaching anything. It's always, 'read up on such and such a potion and we shall begin it next week.' He has never digressed from the syllabus. That is, never until he taught us Defence Against the Dark Arts in third year. You do remember that, don't you, how he was trying to give everyone the not-so-subtle hint that Professor Lupin was a Werewolf?"

"What?" Ron didn't heed her warning glare, "so you think that one of the teachers is a Demon?"

She rolled her eyes, "No, of course not. It just seems…strange, that's all."

She said nothing more about it and the rest of the way to the Quidditch pitch was filled with Ron proclaiming once again, as he had been all year so far, how glad he was that he was not accepted into NEWT class for potions. Harry fuelled his proclamations with corresponding comments of how he wished their positions were swapped.

He did not, however, dismiss Hermione's claims as easily as Ron. If there was one thing he had learnt about her, it was that she was usually right. Her comment in the potions room about a seer predicting a Demon revolution of sorts not only reminded him of his own prophecy, but everything to do with it. It was midway through the school year now, and coming to terms with Sirius' death had not been easy. The pain had not completely diminished, but it had lessened somewhat, and he tried to keep his mind on his studies.

This, however, was not easy. It was not only he who was becoming increasingly concerned about the impending and inevitable encounter with Voldermort, all the teachers seemed to feel it too. They had become increasingly uptight, fastidious and perhaps a little paranoid. Perhaps this was why Snape had decided to change his potions topic. Harry had to agree that if there was a threat of a Demon invasion, however small, it would be infinitely better to know about this potion than the Doxicide.

All thoughts of any invasion, however, were left on the ground as he soared high into the air on his broom…

…as two beady eyes watched from the ground below.

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	4. Chapter 3: Searches and Discoveries

Disclaimer: Don't own nothing.

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Searches and Discoveries

Sitting back, I admired my work. It had only been small, my influence. Just before retracting myself from his mind, I planted a tiny seed of information I knew he would stumble upon. So large was his knowledge of potions, he could not possibly remember where he learnt every piece of information about them, so that is why I planted the thought of teaching the Demon's Rue potion.

It can be dangerous to plant such pieces of information. Let's just say that I planted within your head the entire Portuguese language, so that one day you woke to find yourself able to speak and understand Portuguese. Bit bleeding obvious that someone's had a go at your head, yes? So therefore you could rid yourself of the knowledge. Destroy it because it is false.

Very rarely, however, does such a drastic invasive procedure need to be entered in upon. Usually just a spec of information is enough to set events in motion, and it certainly was in this case. Score one to me.

I was currently in the kitchens, pondering my work while helping to prepare the day's dinner. I decided that being a house elf was probably the best disguise I could hope for. Humans ignore house elves, they are almost entirely invisible, and they have access to the entire castle. Not only this, but they have much better eyesight than a cockroach and are a little less obvious than a nimbus of light floating around the place (my somewhat 'natural' appearance to a human's visual perception.) So I was Minky, or Binky, or Wobby, or some other ridiculous name I had yet to baptise myself with. Perhaps I should just choose 'The Great And All Powerful Nimbus' and be done with it.

I had moulded my appearance on as many planes as I could, especially as I was not doing anything too strenuous at the time. One has to be careful around house elves, seeing as they can see into the fourth plane (2 more than humans. I wonder who's going to have to spill it to them that their magic is actually quite cumbersome).

So as I was saying, I was careful not to reveal myself to the house elves while I pondered the events of the day. And by 'events' I mean 'lack thereof'. I had scanned the entire castle for the presence of another Jinn with no revelation.

A somewhat unorthodox house elf had ambled my way and was now talking animatedly to me, while I pretended to listen.

"…and poor Harry Potter was so tired that when I overheard Professor Moody talking to Professor…" I had heard nothing from this one's mouth for the past three hours except for the chronicles of the brave, wondrous, honourable, loyal Harry Potter whom, as far as I can make out, is decidedly stupid and has only managed to stay alive out of pure dumb luck.

"…and that is when brave Harry Potter pulled her from the lake with his friend…" I amused myself by debating whether to sock him over the head with a frying pan that I was currently working with or slipping him an enormous amount of butterbeer so that he would pass out. I liked the frying pan idea, as it was infinitely quicker though perhaps not quite so subtle.

-- -- -- -- --

Hermione hefted another tome down from the shelf and made her way towards her customary space in the library. There were not many people around at the moment, and she reckoned she could get in perhaps another hour of study before dinner.

After completing her essays on progressive transfiguration and experimental Herbology she had decided to begin on the potions essay. Not that there was any essay particularly set for it, but she knew that there would be. Inevitably. This was, of course, the real reason she began to research an assignment without it being set. It had absolutely nothing to do with the subtly curious way the Professor had been acting, and the benefits of the research she had gained while completing the werewolf essay a few years ago, (though perhaps the word 'benefits' was misplaced). No. That had nothing to do with it at all.

After reading a few scant chapters relating to Demons and the Demon's Rue potion, she had not found much more information than she did not already possess from her frequent recreational endeavours to the library.

The book she had open at the moment was entitled 'Disillusion, Distortion and Deception; A Demon's Almanac'. She was rather surprised that it was not in the restricted section, as she had initially thought most books pertaining to Demons would be. It seemed, however, that the wizarding world had become rather nonchalant about these creatures that had supposedly been the cause of so much havoc hundreds of years ago.

'Demons,' she read, 'are insidious creatures, their singular motivation being to cause chaos to humans, wizards and muggles alike. They delight in aligning themselves with wizards and witches who, in partnership, cause devastation to others. They can be initially summoned from Ifurin, their Hellish abode, which is said to be where they take their prey and subject them to relentless torture. Summoning a Demon from Ifurin is called the Primary Summoning.'

This had been the basic gist of most of the books she had looked through. This and not much else.

'There are three levels in the Demon Hierarchy. The first are Imps, who cannot do more than become a nuisance to whomever they are ordered to attack. Usually, a witch or wizard can perform a Primary Summoning of an Imp at the age of thirteen. The second is the Jinn. Their type are sly and cunning. They will usually exert their insidious nature upon unsuspecting victims, and leave before they are discovered. The third and most powerful is the Efreet. These creatures hold enormous power with which to cause ultimate havoc upon a population. They can only be Summoned by a powerful witch or wizard and are extremely difficult to control.'

The chapter went on to explain the hierarchy in more depth and of the many horrors each had performed over the many years. Spatted throughout the manuscript were various pictures of woodcarvings made to depict the Demons. Some showed enormous monsters causing a violent firestorm, others of the summoning of various Demons. A great many showed a diverse selection of objects that the Demons, especially the Imps and Jinn could be bound to.

One picture in particular caught Hermione's eye, although she didn't at first know why. It was one of the few that were moving, and it showed a family sitting down to dinner. A mother, father and two sons sat at a modest table in a small cottage. The boys were approximately nine or ten years of age and enjoying some type of soup.

Presently, however, the scene became dark, and two red eyes flashed from the page. At that moment, the mother and father suddenly rose from their seats and let out a great howl of pain. When their shrieking stopped, they snapped their head to look at their sons, who were by this time terrified. Their parent's eyes glowed red.

The boys stood as quick as they could and tried to run from the cottage, but they were too slow. Both parents cornered them off at the door and lunged at them with such viciousness that Hermione gasped and almost dropped the book. She watched in horror as the animated figures devoured what were their children and subsequently turned on themselves.

Hermione shuddered and made to slam the book shut, but just as she was about to, her eyes caught on something. She didn't realize what it was at first, though on a second glance it became apparent. At the window to the cottage, gazing in was a barely visible head. Hermione could not tell whether this person was male or female, nor how old they were, as the lines used to create the face's picture were rather crude, nevertheless, it was a face. Although this was not what had caught Hermione's attention. It was the fact that the face was saying something. Or mouthing it, at any rate, as she could not hear a word.

She squinted at the picture, trying to make out what the face was saying. It was watching the goings on inside the cottage with what seemed like little interest. Try as she might, however, Hermione could not make out one word.

The picture changed, then, and reset itself to depict the four sitting down to dinner. Deciding she did not want to witness the horrific scene before her again, she turned the page.

In the next chapter, there was another moving picture, which Hermione eyed warily. This one, however, showed an old witch brewing a potion, which Hermione suspected to be Demon's Rue. Next to her, sitting on a stool, was a young boy, handing the witch various potions ingredients as they were required. At least Hermione thought it was a boy, although she couldn't be entirely sure, as his clothes were rather plain and his face had no real defining features. He, as she convinced herself that the figure was a 'he', was speaking to the old woman. She, however, did not answer back.

"That's strange," Hermione said out loud, flicking back to the last picture of the cottage. She looked at the face peering through the window again. Then she flipped back to the boy on the stool. Flicking back and forth a few times she couldn't help but feel a sneaking suspicion that the boy on the stool was in fact the same as the boy outside of the cottage. She couldn't be sure, of course, as there were no explicit defining features, but there was something about them that was remarkably similar.

Flicking back and forth a few more times Hermione suddenly realized what it was. While the actual face was not created with much detail, the eyes gave off an identical expression.

Slamming the book shut, she hastily packed up her things, put all the books she had been using back on the shelves, except for the Almanac which she borrowed, and fled the library as fast as she could without attracting a detention.

Reaching the common room she gasped out "Meadowsweet," to the Fat Lady and rushed inside…

…and almost collided with Harry and Ron on their way out.

"Harry!" she exclaimed, pulling the both of them back inside the common room.

"Hermione! Wha-" Ron cried indignantly, stumbling backwards. "We were just on our way to dinner."

"I know," she gasped, "that's why I needed to see Harry now."

"Me?" Hermione did not bother to answer. Instead, she pulled the Demon's Almanac from her bag and opened it.

"Look at this," she pointed to the plain featured face peering through the window. Harry and Ron watched the scene.

"That's disgusting!" Ron said, making a face.

"No, not at the people _in_ the cottage," she admonished, though she recognized her initial reaction in his, "look at the person _outside_ it. See? The one looking in the window." The boys squinted to get a better look.

Ron looked back up at her.

"So?"

Harry also gave her a puzzled look. She flipped to the other picture and pointed to the boy on the stool.

"Now look at him." Both did. Ron's face remained in its confused state, while Harry looked more like he was considering something.

"I was wondering," Hermione spoke to him, "if you recognized the expression in the boys' eyes?"

Harry took the book from Hermione and did what she had done, flicking back and forth between pictures.

"It's almost as if…" he trailed off, flicking a few more times.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted, hope in her eyes. Ron noticed her encouraging tone and became even more confused.

"Well, it's almost as if these people are…in a trance of some kind. It's almost as if…they're prophesising."

"Yes!" Hermione exclaimed, bringing confused stares from Harry and Ron. "That's exactly what I thought!"

"But I thought you didn't believe in divination, Hermione?" Ron remembered only too well how she had fared in _that_ class.

"What I don't believe in," she said sternly, though the elation in her voice was not entirely smothered, "is crocks like Trelawney spurting prophecies every fifteen minutes. It's just that – I just had to be sure, because I've never seen anyone give a real prophecy before."

"So the kid in the book is prophesising," Ron shrugged, "So what?"

Hermione, however, ignored him. "Thanks Harry!" she exclaimed before racing up towards the girls dormitory.

"But Hermione!" Ron called after her, "What about dinner?"

"I'll sneak down to the kitchens later!" she exclaimed over her shoulder before disappearing from sight.

Ron looked at Harry, "You know what?" he challenged while they both walked out of the common room, "Sometimes I wonder if she's completely lost it."

Harry just smiled. He and Ron both knew that when it seemed Hermione had gone completely mad, she was on to something. All they had to do was wait a while before she saw fit to share it with them.

What they didn't realize was that they were about to have some pretty interesting information of their own.

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	5. Chapter 4: Officially Bonkers

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

AN: Please feel free to point anything out that I may have made a mistake with, timeline, etc (Thanks to FatCatt for pointing out that this is indeed a 6th yr fic, not 5th (whoops)). And if you don't want to point anything out, still review anyway!

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Officially Bonkers

"Hey guys," Neville sidled up next to Ron at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall.

"Hiya, Neville," Ron replied, bits of chicken flying out of his mouth. "If you're looking for Hermione, she's still in the common room."

Hermione had recently taken it upon herself to supply Neville with some serious tutoring. He had, by some completely unknown and unfathomable twist of fate, ended up in the NEWT potions class. Far from encouraging, however, Professor Snape had been as condescending as ever, and it seemed to Neville that it was the Potion Master's one true goal in life to have every Gryffindor in his class fail, and to have him, personally, receive a negative mark in his potions final.

It had been in his initial desperation when he had almost quit that Hermione had come up to him and in no uncertain terms told him that he was quite capable of achieving a good mark in potions, and that she would help him get there if the both of them had to go through blood, sweat and torture. Which was not so far from the truth.

"That's okay," he said, "I just came to ask if you two had noticed anything about Professor Snape today?"

"Not you too!" Ron exclaimed, "Honestly, that man gets so much attention, it's freaky!"

Neville laughed, "I know, but it's become so easy to predict his behaviour now, that any change is going to be noticeable."

"Hermione said the same thing," Ron replied, "about what happened in Potions today. Honestly, though, I wouldn't worry about it."

"In potions?" Neville looked quizzical and pondered Ron's statement, "I suppose, but that's not all. Parvati was telling me today in Herbology that they, her and Professor Snape that is, had collided into each other rounding a corner in the transfiguration corridor."

"That seems to happen a lot," Harry interjected, remembering that only last week he had almost been a victim to that very predicament in the dungeons, and Denis Creevy had slammed head first into the Professor near the library a little while before that. It wasn't their fault he walked so swift and silently.

"I bet he took at least ten house points off Parvati for not watching where she was going." He muffled a laugh. He didn't really care about house points any more, and the mental image of Snape and the young Gryffindor having a head on collision managed to look quite comical.

"Well that's the thing," Neville leaned in closer, lowering his voice, "He didn't! From what Parvati says, he just stared at her on the ground for a while, blinked a couple of times, as if he was just realizing where he was, then walked away…back to where he came from!"

"Must have been some daydream he was having," Ron scoffed.

"And that's not all!"

At this moment, Ginny joined the table next to Harry.

"Hi," she said, cheerfully, "Did you hear what happened?"

"I was about to tell them," Neville informed her, "about your class."

"Oh, yeah," Ginny breathed, "You haven't heard?" Without waiting for a reply, she leaned in, as Neville had been doing moments before, and relayed to them the events that had transpired only a few hours earlier.

"Well, we had all piled into the potions classroom, us and the Hufflepuffs, that is, and waited for Professor Snape. And in he came, same as always, charmed the ingredients onto the blackboard and told us to get to work. The potion was a funny one, and he kept telling us about Demons or some other such creatures and how awful they are and how this potion was supposed to protect you from them."

Ron held up his hand to halt her story.

"Ginny, we know," he sounded exasperated, "Hermione and Harry had the same lesson. And Neville. Hermione thinks it's curious too, but I really think you both are just getting a bit oversensitive with your exams coming up."

Ginny gave her brother a look that was eerily reminiscent of a cross between Hermione and Mrs. Weasley.

"I'm not _finished_," she all but hissed, "Half way through explaining the proper technique for stripping the stems of Larkspur, and I literally mean half way, as in half way through a word, he stops. Just like that. It was strange, as if time had stopped for a second or two, because no one dared to say anything. Then, without warning, he just dropped the knife on the table, and walked out of the room. We waited for about fifteen minuets to see if he would come back, but he didn't. So I went to see Professor McGonagall."

"Did she say anything?" Two thoughts at the moment were wrestling with each other in Harry's head, trying to dominate. One was wondering what had caused Professor Snape to do that, and the other was wondering, quite hopefully, if Professor Snape would not be teaching on Monday.

Ginny shook her head. "She kind of just shrugged it off, which is very unlike her. I'd have thought she'd be at least a little curious. She just said we could have an early lunch and not to worry about it."

"That does seem rather unlike McGonagall," Ron pondered, "Do you think all the teachers have gone balmy?" He looked up towards the head table. Snape, surprisingly, was present, although not in every sense of the word. He seemed to be gazing into his soup bowl, lost in thought, playing with, rather than eating the contents. The Headmaster was seated on his left, trying to make jovial conversation, to which Snape merely replied with a nod or shake of the head.

McGonagall was there also, although her participation consisted of her eyeing the Potions Master at regular intervals with pursed lips.

Harry had followed his gaze.

"Hmm," he pondered, "maybe there is something up. Maybe Snape's just a bit ill."

"Maybe," Ginny commented, "but I've never seen him like this before."

"Do you think it's because…well…because of You-Know-Who?" Ron ventured, keeping his voice very low, "We don't know exactly what Dumbledore's getting him to do for the Order. Maybe he was summoned?"

Harry shrugged. "It's a possibility."

Finding not much else to discuss about their teacher's strange behaviour, they all embarked on an enthusiastic discussion of their next Hogsmead trip.

Making their way back up to the Gryffindor common room, they grabbed their homework and settled into an armchair by the fire. After a few hours, with not much progress having been made, Hermione traipsed down from the girl's dormitories, Almanac in hand.

"Blimey, Hermione," Ron exclaimed, "have you been looking at that book all this time?"

Hermione answered by sighing and flopping down on a nearby armchair. The common room was almost empty, most of the students already having retired to their dormitories, so it was rather quiet with the soft crackling of fire the only continual noise at the moment.

"Oh," Harry remembered, "Ginny and Neville told us some pretty interesting things at dinner tonight, about Professor Snape."

Ron nodded. He still thought everyone was overreacting, but he nevertheless wanted to be involved in the conversation. So he decided to be the one to break the news.

"Yep," he said, "It's official. Snape's gone bonkers."

Hermione smiled and chuckled wearily, too tired to oppose Ron's use of terms while he regaled her with a far more elaborate tale of Snape's exploits than he had heard, while Harry played mediator.

"Ron, I don't think Ginny said that he actually _threw_ the knife across the class room…I don't think there was any mention of a conspiracy between Snape and McGonagall…are you sure he was completely catatonic at dinner tonight? I don't remember him falling into his soup."

Nevertheless, Hermione was convinced that something was going on. "The thing is," she said, "It may not be any of our business at all. Perhaps we should just keep out of it."

"Says she who has just spent the last five hours looking at pictures from an old book!" Ron scoffed.

Hermione sighed.

"I know," she said, opening the book again, giving it a hard look for not immediately spilling all of its apparent secrets, "But it's just got me hooked. There's something about it that's…I don't know, it's like it's calling for me to figure something out, but…"

"I don't really like the sound of that," Ron interjected, "You know what happed the last time a book 'spoke' to someone…"

"Oh, come on Ron," said Hermione, "It's from the library. I'm just curious is all." She looked down at the first picture she had seen, wondering out loud, "What _are _you saying?"

Without any warning, a loud, low voice boomed through the common room, almost blasting Hermione from her seat. "A SYMBOL TRUE BLAZED FORTH."

"Blimey!" Ron jumped back from the book and looked around to see the few students left in the common room staring at them.

"Ah…sorry," Hermione said timidly to everyone, while slamming the book shut. It was only a few seconds before the normal hum of conversation drifted over the room again.

"What the bloody hell was that!" Ron whispered to Hermione. She looked at him apologetically.

"I have no idea," she whispered back.

"Certainly does sound like a prophecy," Harry noted, "At least the voice does, anyway…"

Hermione cautiously opened the now silent book once again, looking at the picture with curiosity.

"Yes, look, that's what it's saying – 'A symbol true blazed forth'." And indeed, the figure at the window was mouthing those very words over and over.

"But what does that mean?" Harry questioned, "That doesn't make any sense."

"I know," said Hermione, flipping the pages over to the boy sitting on a stool handing potions to an old witch.

"Oh no you don't!" said Ron, guessing what she was up to, "Not in here!"

Hermione took out her wand with a look that said 'Do you _think_ I'm stupid?' and cast a subtle silencing charm around the three of them. The other students in the common room didn't notice a thing.

She looked at the picture and asked, quite timidly but in a clear voice, "What are you saying?"

The same booming voice came from the book, "AND FINDS IFURIN'S GATE."

Despite their utmost faith in Hermione's magic, the trio couldn't help but cast a furtive glance around the room, just to make sure none of the other students had heard. They hadn't.

"Finds Ifurin's gate," Hermione whispered, almost to herself, "Now, that's interesting…"

"Yeah but it still doesn't make any sense," Ron pouted and Hermione took down the silencing charm.

"Hang on," said Harry slowly, taking the book and flipping through its other pages. "Hermione, are there any other pictures like these?"

"Well, yes, I think so, but–" she stopped when Harry found another picture. This one depicted a large group of people at a fair ground, watching in awe as a conjurer summoned an Imp, who flew around the crowd, lifting peoples hats and dropping them on another's head, while the many surrounding children were clapping and laughing. Harry looked intently at the picture.

"What is it, Harry?" Ron asked.

"Well, I was just thinking, prophecies are not only one or two lines, they're more than that…although I've only really heard two." He studied the picture further, but it was difficult to see everyone, as there were so many people moving about.

Suddenly, Ron exclaimed, "Hey, look!" He pointed to a group of children to the right of the picture, who at first glance seemed to be all clapping and laughing like the rest. One boy, however, shielded by most of the other children was clapping, although his face was plain in expression, and he was mouthing something.

"Goodness!" Hermione exclaimed. "Do you think they're all like that?"

Harry flicked through the other pages. The next was a picture of a mass exodus of villagers from their burning homes. And there he was. Running around seemingly as petrified as the others, but there was no look of fear on his face. Just the trance-like eyes and moving mouth.

There were four in all. Four pictures which seemed to include the same plain-faced boy, though so integrated into the picture that sometimes he would be impossible to spot if they hadn't known to look for him.

Hermione took out a piece of parchment and quill and jotted down the first two statements the book had made.

"All right, let's hear the other two, then," Ron leaned in closer to the book.

Hermione slipped the silencing charm around them once again, and listened to the others while noting them down diligently.

Once Hermione had written down the last phrase, they double checked through the book to make sure they hadn't missed out any pictures. The parchment she had been writing on read:

'A symbol true blazed forth

And finds Ifurin's gate

But does from one abate

One must not be left in truss.'

"Okay," said Ron after studying the parchment for a few moments, "I'm lost."

"I have to admit," Hermione frowned, "It doesn't really make any kind of sense. However," she flicked the pages over to the very first, "This book is rather recent," she pointed to a marked date of MDCCLXV at the bottom of the title page, "So it's quite possible that these pictures are just copies of the original. Perhaps wherever the author got these from contained more of these pictures."

As she was talking, Harry's eyes flicked over to something that caught his eye on the opposite page. "Hey," he pointed over Hermione's shoulder to a nameplate, which was ornately boarded by swirling gold flourishes, and read 'Kindly donated to the Library of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry by Abraxis Malfoy in the year of MCMLXV.'

"Malfoy!" Ron exclaimed, "That just figures. His lot donate things left right and centre to Hogwarts, I'm surprised the whole castle isn't named after them."

"Hmm," Hermione looked thoughtful, "Well unless we can find out where the pictures have come from, we can't really discover much more now." She snapped the book shut and stated, "So I think it's time to sneak down to the kitchens for some tea. Do you mind if I borrow your invisibility cloak, Harry?"

Ron was about to mention something about SPEW, but caught himself just in time. If he had have mentioned something, Hermione may have retaliated by doing something drastic like invite all the house elves to the common room for tea, just to spite him.

Instead, he went with Harry to fetch the cloak, and they decided that due to this years' lack of adventures so far, they would take the ultimate risk and sneak down to the kitchens together.

Such said ultimate risk was by no means a misnomer. Ron and Harry had grown so much that it was almost impossible to keep all three of them concealed beneath the cloak. Nevertheless, they persevered.

Being in such a position, even if Ron's foot incessantly stuck out from under the cloak and they more often than not tripped over each other, brought back somewhat happy memories of Harry's early years at Hogwarts. Even though events had seemed complicated and difficult back then, they seemed to have amplified tenfold over the past year or so.

So as the trio made their way to the kitchen, Harry was reminded of a time when he was Harry. Just Harry. Or even Harry, The Boy Who Lived. For now, at least, he deliberately forgot that his new unwelcome title was either going to be Harry, The Boy Who Defeated Voldemort, or Harry, The Boy Who Lived No More.

Absorbed as he was, however, in their courageous quest for food (which was indeed quite courageous, seeing as they almost had a head-on with Mrs Norris half way to the fruit bowl and only just managed to contain their laughter when Madame Hooch passed through the corridor muttering about the complete inanity of Hagrid trying to fly on five brooms tied together), he couldn't help notice a subtle nagging sensation on a piece of his brain. Had he forgotten something? An essay for tomorrow? Perhaps, but honestly, what difference would a few more hours make? And besides, now they had a mystery to solve.

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	6. Chapter 5: Unfolding the Prophecy

Declaration: I don't own the characters. Or the setting. Or anything, really.

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Unfolding the Prophecy

They were a comical sight, really, the trio who made their way towards the kitchens much later than what I remember curfew to be. Even if I had not been able to see into the fifth plane in which they were visible, I would have no doubt spotted the taller one's feet poking out from the bottom in every single plane you could imagine.

As it was, I did a terrific impression of not noticing them until they pulled off the cloak. Oh, my. What a shock. I in no way expected three bedraggled teenagers to just pop up from nowhere.

They were, however, at the moment, the last things on my mind. I was instead concentrating on the events of the day, or, curiously, lack thereof.

And this worried me. If it had been me, for instance, sent to destroy Severus, I would have certainly done it by now. Either this other Jinn was completely incompetent, had gotten lost on the way here, or was up to something other than what I expected. Knowing that Jinn are never incompetent and do not become lost, I assumed it was the latter. Subsequently, I had been fully alert for the entire day as to any suspicious activities going on around Hogwarts, but so far I had come across no other Jinn. Not even a stray Imp. Perhaps Dumbledore had received faulty information.

I was brought back into the present by the throng of House elves now making their way towards the trio. Figuring I had better play along, I hyperventilated with delight at the prospect of serving the humans.

Now this is one thing I have not been unable to understand with house elves. They hold a power much greater than what most wizards seem to think, but they refuse to do anything with it. Curious creatures. Exasperating, yet curious.

I stacked a tray full of butterbeers and all but thrust them into the female's hands. Just as I was about to amble off unnoticed, I heard the one who now held the butterbeers speak in a low voice to the two males beside her.

"I can't imagine no one's discovered it before, it's not as if it was particularly difficult to get the book to speak, but I wonder if they were able to figure it out." One of the elves had managed to procure a full chicken and was shoving it into the tall boy's hands.

"I don't know Hermione," said the one with dark hair, "Not many people would _ask_ a book a question, and even if they did, 'A symbol true blazed forth' sounds more like a poem, really, even if the boy did look like he was prophesising.

At his words I felt sure I had just regurgitated my body's heart. I stood, gaping and considering how wide a house elf's mouth is, I shudder to think about how comical I looked. Luckily, no one seemed to notice.

After receiving far more food than I'm sure they expected or needed, the three humans pulled on the (by now completely and utterly useless) invisibility cloak (made so by the fact that their arms were laden with goods), and made their way out into the corridor, with a slightly-in-shock house elf trailing behind them.

You see, every Ifucaucin worth his salt who was left behind after The Raid knows The Prophecy. (We like to capitalize important events. Put up with it.)

No. Let me rephrase that. Knows _of_ The Prophecy. Thing is, we know it exists, but we only know one stanza. Don't ask me why, it just happened like that.

This Prophecy, the whole lot of it, that is, is supposed to reveal the location of the key to Ifurin. And discovering the key means there's a chance for the Gate of Ifurin to be opened again. And a chance for the Gate to be opened again…well…

That is what we exist for.

-- -- -- -- --

It was half past eleven and Harry, Ron and Hermione were still pouring over the Demon's Almanac, just to make sure they hadn't missed a picture with the now familiar, plain-faced boy. Though not extremely late, the common room was, thankfully, deserted. Their loot from the kitchens was spread out on the table also, where they occasionally picked at this or that.

"Okay," Hermione said, "Rubbing her eyes and sitting back, "I don't think there are any other pictures with this boy in it that we haven't already spotted. I think that's all there is."

"You know," Ron said, sitting back, "I just don't get it. So what if this thing does spell out a prophecy? Really, what's the big deal anyway? It's not as if we can do anything with it."

"To be honest, Ron, I don't know," Hermione admitted, "but I just have a feeling that it's important somehow."

"Well what if tomorrow we go up to the library and see if there are any other books containing pictures like these," Harry ventured. "Perhaps they'll hold the other lines of this…whatever it is."

Ron stared at Harry like he'd just gone bonkers and Hermione was positively beaming.

"But we were supposed to play Quidditch tomorrow!" Ron finally found his voice, "Don't you remember?"

"Oh, yeah," Harry said sheepishly, "Sorry. Well, it _is_ Saturday tomorrow. Maybe just before Quidditch then, what do you think?"

Hermione agreed, but Ron was still not impressed.

"You know what I think?" Ron ventured, eyeing the two of them, "I think that you both are just looking for something to do. Not much stuff has happened this year, and you two are just inventing things to make life a little more interesting."

Contrary to Ron's expectations, Harry and Hermione just rolled their eyes and chuckled.

"I suppose you're right, Ron," Harry acknowledged, "But it's nice to be involved in something without it having the potential to end your life."

"Exactly," Hermione seconded, "Perhaps we are making a big deal out of nothing. It's most probable. But it's a mystery nonetheless…"

Ron thought about this for a moment. He eyed his two best friends for a while, then rolled his eyes and broke into a smile.

"You know what," he said, "let's do it."

The next day found Harry, Ron and Hermione scouring the library for every book relating to or containing information about Demons.

"Found one!" Ron exclaimed, his friends' enthusiasm having rub off on him somewhat, "Look, see?" He presented to them a picture within a book entitled, 'Great Moments in History: A Comprehensive Guide to the Second Millennia." It was a moving painting depicting the then-Minister for Magic making a speech on the success of the raid ridding Demons from Great Britain. Surrounding him was an audience of many, and among the throng just happened to be the ubiquitous boy.

"Brilliant!" Hermione exclaimed, once again casting the silencing charm.

Harry and Ron didn't end up playing Quidditch. In fact, they didn't even realize it was well past lunchtime until Neville found them pouring over tomes.

"Gee, guys," he said, taking a seat near Harry, "Have you been here all day?"

Hermione looked up from the book she was scanning through, and her eyes grew as wide as saucers.

"Oh, Neville!" she cried, to a look of contempt from the Madame Pince, "I'm so sorry. I _completely_ forgot!" She clasped a hand over her mouth. "Oh, I'm such a git! I said I would help you study today!"

"Eh, that's alright," Neville shrugged, "I did a bit myself today anyway. I was just wondering where you had all gotten to."

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Hermione repeated, "it's just that…well…" she looked over to Ron and Harry, wondering if she should share with him what they were doing.

Harry shrugged. Why not? "Well, it's just that, see," Hermione lowered her voice, "I think we've discovered something Neville," and Hermione continued to explain the pictures and the supposed prophecy.

"Wow," Neville awed, half from the information Hermione had just given him, and half from his appreciation of her having told him at all. "Can I help?"

"Well, actually," Harry replied, eyeing the books strewn in front of them, "I think we've been through everything there is on Demons. We've found three other pictures, but even with their lines, what we've found still doesn't make sense."

Ron nodded, his enthusiasm from the morning was wanning. "Yeah," he picked up the parchment, "Unless you know where 'And he who bides within them both'; 'The twins must rein but equals'; and 'which begins in Erebus' fits into what we've already got."

Neville shrugged. "No idea." He looked at the pictures the trio had found. They were not very detailed, especially compared to the paintings which lined Hogwarts walls. Instead they were an old-style woodcut, which played the same scene lasting for only a few seconds over and over.

Hermione took the parchment off Ron and read all the lines they had gathered so far. "I can't think of a possible way these could be arranged for it to makes sense. A couple of lines may go together, but…oh, solving a puzzle without all the pieces is rather-"

"Hang on!" Neville interrupted, just realising something, "I think I remember seeing a picture like this in Snape's personal library."

"What?" Ron yelped, "What in the world were you doing in that gits' library!"

Neville rolled his eyes. "Detention. About a month ago. Apparently Peeves had managed to get in, so you can probably imagine the state it was in. I had to clean it all up…and it had to be alphabetised! Anyway, there was one book, I remember, nothing on Demon's specifically. Something to do with Occlumency. Yes, that's it, it was a book on Occlumency. It was on the floor when I found it, opened to a page on Legilimens side effects. I remember picking it up and flicking through it for a second or two. There were a few pictures, one in particular, that looked like all these others, woodcut style."

"Did it have a boy in it?" Hermione was listening raptly, "this boy?"

Neville thought hard. "I'm not quite sure. But then, I wasn't really looking."

"That's okay," Hermione's mind began to work fast, "You wouldn't know it if you weren't looking for it. Do you remember the title of the book, Neville?"

Neville frowned in concentration, "Well, as it happened, I had to ask Professor Snape if I was to shelve it under 'O' for Occlumency, or… now what was it?" His frown deepened as his eyes squinted as he thought back to the book, "That's it! Under 'H' for History of the Mind and its Manners…or Matters: an Occlumens' Journey…or something like that."

Hermione jumped up, surprising her three friends, and dashed off to the front of the library. Neville looked at Ron and Harry in shock.

Ron just shook his head and rolled his eyes. "Don't worry," he said nonchalantly, "She'll eventually figure out that she's left us in the dark."

It was only moments later that she returned, a determined look on her face.

"Madam Pince said that there are no books on Occlumency in the Library. Not even in the restricted section."

"So?" Ron gave her a bewildered look.

"So…" she let the word drag on, "That means that the only place it will be is in Snape's library."

Ron was still confused, and so was Neville, but Harry had caught on.

"Um, Hermione," he said, cautiously, "You're not actually thinking of _asking_ him for a lend, are you?"

Hermione snorted, "From _him_? What do you think I am, a half-wit?"

Ron, finally, caught on.

"Wait a second," he lowered his voice, "You don't actually think we…I mean, you would _never_…Hermione!"

But Hermione had a grin on her face, which clearly confirmed his fears.

"You're going to _break into Snape's library_?" His voice was lowered to a hiss and was filled with utmost horror.

Neville gasped. Hermione looked indignant.

"Now, Ron, what an awful thing to suggest, _me,_ breaking into a teacher's private chambers! Honestly!"

"Oh," Ron relaxed, "Phew. For a moment there I really thought – "

"Neville will have to come with me."

"WHAT!" both Ron and Neville demanded simultaneously, to disapproving looks from nearby students.

"Have you completely lost your marbles?" Ron was aghast.

"Ah, Hermione," Neville ventured timidly, "I don't think that's a terribly good idea."

"Think about it," Hermione pressed in a low tone, "Neville knows where the library and the book is, and as the pictures in the Almanac only respond to me," It was true. No matter how nicely the others had asked, it only answered to Hermione, "The others will probably only answer to me too. Add to that the fact that no more than two of us can fit underneath the invisibility cloak convincingly, it's the logical choice."

"Ah…" Neville was not convinced, "What if I just tell you where it is? Won't that be easier?"

"It's possible, but it won't be easier. You've been there and you've seen the book."

Harry was looking around the library. "Do you really think we should be discussing this here?" He warned.

"Probably not," Hermione agreed. "Let's go back to the common room. There shouldn't be anyone there now."

"Yeah," Ron agreed, "but that's because they're outside enjoying this lovely weather, and we're the nuts who are discussing the infiltration of Snape's private rooms!"

But Hermione wasn't listening; she was already striding out of the library.

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Go on! Press that button next to 'Review'!

Next week: Are Hermione and Neville actually going to sneak into Snape's library...and get out with their heads attached?


	7. Chapter 6: Where Angels Fear to Tread

Disclaimer: Once again, I don't own anything...Is this disclaimer really necessary? As if I'd own anything. Honestly.

AN: Thanks to the people who have reviewed...even if there has been only two!!!!! P

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Where Angels Fear to Tread

"Neville, please, if you're going to breathe, do it _quietly_." Hermione was beginning to think that Neville being her accomplice was perhaps not the best idea she had had all year.

"Sorry," He whispered for what was perhaps the fifth time. They had not even made it to the dungeon corridor and Neville was already shaking.

"Honestly, you were all for going with Harry to the Ministry last year, where's your courage now?"

"But Hermione…" he whispered back, "This is Professor _Snape_."

Hermione shrugged. Fair enough.

"Ah, guys?" Ron's voice startled both Neville and Hermione.

"Ron!" Hermione hissed as quietly and forcefully as she could, "Can you _stop_ doing that!" She stared into the scrying glass in her hand. Ron's face peered out from the shiny metal that Hermione had managed to construct only hours earlier. The two scrying glasses, one for Hermione and Neville, one for Ron and Harry, acted similar to Sirius' mirror and were small enough to fit onto chains and worn around the neck.

Ron gazed back sheepishly.

"Sorry," he whispered, "but I just thought you should know, a couple of Slytherin prefects are making their way out of the dungeons."

Ron and Harry were still in Gryffindor's common room, though they had in their possession the Marauder's Map which they had reckoned was too large to be able to read properly under the invisibility cloak concealing two people. It was their job to play sentry while Hermione and Neville crept into the dungeons.

It had taken a lot of convincing on Hermione's part to persuade Neville to come along, and a lot of convincing Ron that this was a good idea. Ron still didn't think this was a good idea, but at least he agreed to go along with it.

What had really tipped the balance in regards to Neville was Hermione's conviction that as soon as they encountered an obstacle they couldn't pass, they would return immediately to the common room.

Neville knew that Professor Snape would never leave any part of his chambers unwarded, and said so to Hermione. She had replied, "Fine, well if there are wards, we'll turn right around, go back the way we came and forget this totally. I promise."

Neville, feeling sure that the rooms would be warded, had agreed, not wanting Hermione, nor Ron or Harry for that matter, to see that he was afraid.

The two concealed Gryffindors slowed to a halt, waiting for the Prefects to appear. In a matter of moments, two Slytherins stalked into view, apparently completing their sweep of the dungeons, and made their way towards what Hermione expected to be their common room. All the while they kept a watch for anything suspicious. They eyes slid over the place where Hermione and Neville were standing. Neville shivered and Hermione grasped his arm to silently remind him to keep still.

Once the Prefects were sure they were alone, they spoke to each other in low tones.

"What d'you think tha' was about?" The tall, lean boy with dark brown hair gestured over his shoulders towards where they had just come from. The girl shrugged and shook her head, plaits slapping across her shoulders.

"Beats me. But he looked really confused for a second there."

"I know," the boy shuffled, "I mean, he was jus' talkin' to us, righ' as rain, and then he stops, mid-sentence an' demands ta know what we're doin' there?"

"I can't believe he took off those house points!" The girl was almost in a state of shock.

"D'you think he's cracked?" The boy lowered his voice even more, as if even suggesting such a thing was blasphemous.

"Jason!" the girl admonished, "What a thing to think about our Head of House! He's probably just tired, that's all, or under a lot of pressure."

"Yeah, yeah, you're prob'ly right." He agreed a little too readily.

"Come on," the girl turned on her heel. "We should be getting back. It's getting almost too late for even Prefects to be out."

The boy followed in silence. When they were out of earshot, Neville looked at Hermione.

"What do you think that was about?" He whispered. Hermione shrugged.

"But never mind that now," she pulled Neville forward towards the dungeon corridor.

They made their way as silently as they could through the corridor. Ron was holding the scrying glass over the map so that Hermione could see exactly where Snape was. At the moment, he was currently in the Potions classroom.

"Hermione," Neville whispered, though it sounded suspiciously like a whine, "Why couldn't we do this when he's asleep?"

Hermione sighed, "Look, where is this library?"

"In an annex off to one side of his private chambers." He answered, knowing full well where this conversation was leading.

"Right. So if it's off to one side, what's probably off to the other?"

"His bedchamber," Neville acknowledged defeated.

"Right, so it would probably be an excellent idea for him not to be _in_ his chambers, asleep or awake, when we enter them. At least they're far enough away from the classroom and his office that he'll have no chance of discovering us. Now hush, we're getting close."

They slowed to a painfully measured pace while passing the classroom. The door was open, and they could see Snape sitting at his desk, marking an essay. Hermione held her hand over Neville's mouth as he caught his breath, though Snape didn't seem to hear.

Moving further along the corridor, they passed the Professor's office. Further along were two passageways.

"This way," Neville instructed faintly, directing them through the passage to the left.

Finally, they came to the door to Snape's personal chambers.

Neville couldn't help but breathe a sigh of relief. The door was closed.

His relief, however, was only momentary, and turned rapidly to horror when Hermione reached out from under the cloak, turned the handle and pushed.

The door swung easily open.

"See?" She gestured towards the door. "I knew he wouldn't have it warded."

Neville was stunned. "How could you possibly have know that?" he whispered, but Hermione either didn't hear or ignored him. But now there were a bigger question. Why had the Professor not warded the door? The last time he was down here, he was sure he saw the Professor mutter some incantation to disengage them. Why would he only arm them selectively?

His thoughts, however, turned to more pressing matters as Hermione stepped over the threshold, and he followed half automatically, and half out of fear of slipping from under the cloak.

They entered the room, which was much like a sitting room. The fireplace was currently extinguished, though variously placed magic candles and torches lit the room enough for them to make out the surprisingly comfortable abode.

There were various doors, and Neville, wasting no time and wishing to be out of there as soon as possible, led her through one. The door opened to a corridor, which was pitch black as soon as they had rounded the first corner. Pulling off the invisibility cloak, Hermione muttered _lumos, _and the two of them made their way down a set of stairs and into a hexagonal shaped alcove.

Hermione stopped and almost forgot herself at the sight of all the books, sitting there on the shelves, just begging to be read. The room was larger than what she had originally thought, each shelf reaching about two and a half metres high, and there was hardly any wall showing from all the various tomes and volumes on diverse subjects.

Lots, she saw, were on potions, and that much she expected. What she didn't expect, however, were the amount of what appeared to be muggle books lining the shelves. Granted, there were not many, but they were there nonetheless, she could spot them from their binding, which was mainly bright and glossed.

"Yeah, here it is," Neville broke her out of her semi-reverie by removing a very heavy, very old looking tome from one of the shelves.

He heaved it onto the table in the centre of the room and opened it.

"While you're looking at that," Hermione decided, "I'll see if there's anything else I can find."

So while Neville searched the pages of 'History of the Mind and its Matters: an Occlumens' Journey', Hermione searched the shelves. She came upon a few that looked promising, but nothing on demons specifically.

"Hey!" Ron's voice rang through the library. Hermione sighed.

"Not so loud!" she commanded.

"Sorry," he apologised sheepishly, "But McGonagall just entered the dungeon corridor!"

Neville and Hermione looked at each other, holding their breath.

Ron kept up a running commentary, "She's moving pretty swiftly, she's…she's entering the potions classroom, where Snape is."

"Do you think McGonagall knows we're out of bed?" Neville whispered. "Maybe she's come to tell Snape."

Hermione shook her head, "Harry and Ron would know if she knew anything. Besides, why would she come and tell Snape about it? Don't worry, it'll be fine."

They waited a few more moments, then Ron spoke into the scrying glass again.

"It looks as if she's staying in the classroom. We'll tell you if she moves."

Hermione nodded, and both she and Neville continued their search.

After a while, Neville spoke up. "Here!" he cried, momentarily forgetting to keep his voice down. Hermione practically jumped to Neville's side. The picture he had found was quite different to the others, though only in context. It depicted, not a familiar scene as the others did, such as a cottage or fairground, but of a place quite different.

Its main subject was a man who was chained in a vast cavern. He was surrounded by serpents and many other wild beasts that even Hermione did not recognise. The beasts and serpents were taking turns at charging at the struggling man and ripping chunks of flesh from his body. Even though it was a woodcut, and not at all realistic, Neville winced at the ceaseless torture.

The man's flesh would grow back, only to have it ripped open again by the menagerie of evil creatures surrounding him.

"Oh, that's disturbing!" Hermione cringed, scanning the rest of the picture.

There were other human figures, also being ripped apart, around the periphery of this cavern, and each one seemed to be howling in agony.

All, that is, except for one.

Hermione smiled as she recognised the stoic face and moving mouth.

"Harry! Ron!" She looked into the scrying glass. This time it was Harry's face that greeted her.

"You found it?" He asked.

Hermione nodded. "Neville," she ordered, "Keep looking through these books that I've found to see if there are any others."

As Neville continued to search, Hermione looked intently at the picture, and taking a steadying breath, asked, "What are you saying?"

"SHALL BE THE ONE WHO CARRIES ON!" Boomed through the room, causing Neville to jump in shock.

"Hermione!" He looked at her in alarm.

"It's alright Neville, I've cast a silencing charm around the room." Neville looked relieved, but his unsteadiness remained.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ron took the scrying glass off Harry.

"Who cares," Hermione said dismissively, looking for another picture in the tome, "Just jot it down! Neville, have you found anything yet?"

"Ah, not ye-…no, wait. I think there's one here!" He held out a book with the familiar style of picture. Hermione grabbed it and asked immediately, finding 'Accept this charge unquestioned which' boomed around the room to the protestation of her eardrums.

Despite their initial good fortune in discovering two pictures almost immediately, continued searching revealed no others. Neville began to wonder if they had found all there was to find, while Hermione was determined to search the entire library. Ron's voice momentarily broke their search. "Just thought you'd like to know, McGonagall is heading out of the dungeons."

"Okay, that's fine," Hermione answered back, her mind more engaged with the tomes in front of her.

Continued searching still revealed nothing more, though the room was now nothing like the one they had entered. Books were strewn across the floor and table, and Neville could hardly put them back on the shelf in the right order before Hermione took another one off and ordered him to "Keep searching."

Now, Neville knew that when Hermione set her mind to something, she would go to almost any length to get it, but this was getting ridiculous.

"Hermione," Neville looked at his watch, becoming more and more apprehensive "It's almost midnight. Don't you think we should go now?"

Hermione nodded but continued to flick through 'Intrepid Invaders of the Mind'.

"I know, I know," she said in a tone that suggested she knew she was really running out of time, "Just a few more minutes…"

"But what about Professor Snape? Won't he be going to bed soon?"

She tsked in frustration, knowing he was right.

"Don't worry," she said, "As soon as Ron and Harry tell us he's moving out of the Potion's classroom, we can easily magic the room right again and slip out under the cloak. Isn't that right, guys…" She turned to the scrying glass.

It was empty.

Hermione frowned. "Ron?" she asked, hesitation in her voice.

Ron did not answer. Nor did Harry when she called him.

"RON!" she shouted forcefully, making Neville jump and cringe at the same time, knowing that something was up.

"Wha-" suddenly, she was looking at Ron's face, puffy eyed and squinting.

Suddenly, Ron's expression turned to one of horror.

"Blimey!" Hermione saw him looking around, and shake something to his right. She let out a groan of exasperation.

"You two were ASLEEP?" she practically shrieked into the scrying glass.

"Sorry!'' Ron choked out, "I just closed my eyes for a moment…"

"Never mind now!" Hermione admonished, "Where's Snape?"

Ron, however, did not have to answer for Hermione to know exactly where he was. The look of pure terror on his face while surveying the Marauder's Map was enough.

"He's coming down the corridor!" he choked out, "The one in his rooms! He's practically on you, Hermione! Get out! NOW!"

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Please please please review, even if it's to say that I have the worst grammar ever. 


	8. Chapter 7: Suddenly Severus

Suddenly Severus

**Previously:**

"_Never mind now!" Hermione admonished, "Where's Snape?"_

_Ron, however, did not have to answer for Hermione to know exactly where he was. The look of pure terror on his face while surveying the Marauder's Map was enough._

"_He's coming down the corridor!" he choked out, "The one in his rooms! He's practically on you, Hermione! Get out! NOW!"_

Neville heard Ron's voice through the scrying glass and froze in shock. What had he been thinking? Breaking into his most feared Professor's private quarters! It was insanity! He would be expelled for sure! He had let down his parents…his grandmother!

Hermione's eyes widened in horror, "The door! We must have left it open! Neville, quick! Under the cloak!"

Neville, however, was on one side of the room, and Hermione and the cloak were on the other, near the door.

Just like in class, they did not hear his footsteps, only the grabbing of the handle.

Neville lunged forward towards Hermione, the cloak being his sole focus. The next second played out in slow motion.

One step. He heard the handle grate against the wood as it was turned. Hermione opened the cloak.

Two steps. The door slid over the stone floor, hinges squeaking. Hermione was half covered.

He didn't even make the third step before the door was fully opened, and framed within the doorway was the terrifying apparition of Severus Snape.

Glaring right at him.

Hermione had just managed to cover herself with the cloak, and would be standing not a metre away from him.

Neville froze and all colour drained from his face. It was only then that he realised the state of the room; books strewn everywhere, open to various pages and lying around haphazardly.

He was dead.

"What." Professor Snape spoke, his voice silky low and dangerous, "Are. You. Doing?"

Neville opened his mouth to speak, but not a sound came out, and he stood there with his mouth gaping. The Professor was nearly shaking with rage.

"How DARE you?" Snape's voice became a dangerous and demented hiss as he stalked towards Neville.

"I…I…I'm s-s-sorry…I…" Neville stepped back from him, hitting his knee on the table and practically tripping over the books on the floor.

"You…you…" Now it was the Professor's turn to stumble over his words as he could not grasp the exact condemnation fit for such an act. Instead, he settled for what was natural. "FIVE HUNDRED POINTS FROM GRIF-"

Neville felt like he was about to pass out, but then Snape stopped. His face fell. Neville saw that his expression went from absolute fury to one of…confusion?

Neville couldn't believe his eyes when he saw the Professor momentarily scan his surroundings, then stumble back as if he had just received a blow. Then he knew he had to be dreaming when Snape suddenly reached out and grabbed one of the bookshelves, as if catching himself from falling.

Snape straightened up and turned back to Neville. His expression again had changed, and this time, Neville felt his blood run cold.

"As you can see," Snape said in his usual classroom manner, all signs of his previous rage gone, "Peeves has done quite a job here. I want it cleaned up, in alphabetical order, _without _magic. Have it done by the time I get back."

Without another word, he turned on his heel and glided back out the door, slamming it behind him.

It was only when he was out of sight that Neville began to breathe again.

Hermione threw off the cloak, "Oh my God Neville, I'm so sorry!"

"That's okay," Neville breathed, still staring at the door the Professor had just slammed.

"What the bloody hell was that about!" A voice came from Hermione's direction and she lifted the scrying glass to see Ron peering into it looking mortified.

"I have no idea," she breathed, almost as shaken as Neville.

"Hermione, we are so, so sorry," Harry's equally mortified face replaced Ron's, "Really we don't know what happened…we just…"

"It's okay," she said, feeling her senses slowly return and deciding to deal with Ron later, "I think Neville and I should just leave now." Her quavering voice betrayed her shock while her words remained logical, and according to Neville, the best he had heard in a while. Despite their fabulous spurt of good luck, he didn't want to be around when Snape came to his senses.

Even as they hurriedly set the room right with their wands, both were contemplating what had actually happened. They had just, although neither had any idea how, evaded the wrath of the most frightening teacher in the school. It was almost as if…

"Hermione!" Neville gasped, "I think I know what happened!" Hermione, was making sure all the books were just the way they were when they entered. "I think that Professor Snape somehow thought that…well, thinks that it's the time when he put me on detention. You know, when I cleaned up here a month ago?"

"Yes, I thought so too," She nodded, deep in thought, "but let's -," she was cut off as a book she had not taken from the shelves caught her eye. She snatched it from the shelf, flicked through and almost squealed with delight as she found what she was looking for. Neville watched in horror as she deftly ripped the page from its binding.

"What are you doing!" Neville didn't bother to try and keep his voice down.

"I know, I know," she said, slamming the book shut and replacing it on the shelf, "but we've just no time…" she muttered almost to herself as her instincts were saying it's time to leave. Now.

They moved out of the dungeon at an incredible speed, since Snape was once again, according to a now awake Harry and Ron, in the classroom.

They arrived at the common room at about half past one in the morning, where Ron and Harry greeted a shaking Neville and an equally perturbed Hermione.

"Hermione, Neville, we're really sorry," Harry began, with a nodding Ron beside him.

Hermione held up a hand, "Look, we all did some pretty stupid things tonight," she referred perhaps not only to her lack of attention when it came to closing Snape's door on the way into the library but also to the fact that it was she that suggested it in the first place, "But it worked out alright, in the end."

"I thought I was dead," Neville whispered, clearly not as ready to drop it as Hermione was. She turned to him.

"Yes, I know, I'm terribly sorry Neville, for talking you into it. But, one must admit, you were terribly brave during the whole event."

Neville started, wondering if she had lost her marbles, but then felt a swelling of pride come over him, and he blushed.

"Well, I…that is to say, I don't…I mean…uh…thanks." He stared at her a little longer, while Harry and Ron nodded, eager to rid themselves of the guilt from almost allowing Neville to become one of Snape's potion ingredients.

"So…um, let's hear it, then," Ron pointed to the parchment in Hermione's hand, the one she'd ripped from a tome in the library.

"Oh," Hermione looked at the parchment, almost as if seeing it for the first time and not quite believing she'd ripped it from its source. "Okay."

Again she cast the silencing charm and again she asked the question.

"AND BALDER'S PILE OF THE GLOWING SUN."

"Brilliant," Ron looked at the page with an expression that said he most certainly did _not_ think it was such, "It makes less sense than usual."

Hermione suddenly didn't have any energy to roll her eyes or shoot him an exasperated look. In fact, they all suddenly felt extremely weary, and decided to deal with everything else that had happened later. A few mumbled goodnights and they were soon clamouring into their four posters.

Try as he might, however, Neville could not manage to fall asleep. His mind kept replaying the moment when Snape had walked through the door. The others hadn't seen it, his face, as it contorted with rage and then fell frighteningly slack. But he had witnessed the moment, the fleeting, blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment, when his most abhorred and frightening Professor looked little more than a lost and terrified child. In that moment, Neville had known that something was wrong. Very wrong. He had seen that look before, on two of his most beloved people, but in a way, it was almost worse on Snape.

He became aware of the quiet snores of Harry and Ron, and with the disturbing picture of Snape to spur him on, he made up his mind. Someone had to know about what had happened, or the situation may only get worse. He knew that Snape had been acting strange lately, perhaps this was a culmination of whatever had been happening before. With this disturbing thought in his head, he silently slipped form under the covers and tiptoed out of the room, making his way towards McGonagall's chambers.

And ran smack bang into a house elf.

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Woop, now things start to get interesting. Well...I think so anyway...

Please review!! D


	9. Chapter 8: Fly on the Wall

AN: Wow, sorry for such an enormous wait. Suffice it to say, life has a way of being weird. Anyway, I'll try to be good and not let it happen again (because I know how miffed I get when the shoe's on the other foot).

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Fly on the Wall

Confidence is the feeling you have before you understand the situation. And by now, I well and truly understood the situation.

Or so I thought.

Nevertheless, my confidence was in tatters.

Protect Severus, he says. Well that would be all well and good if the git wasn't loosing his mind! It's the little things I noticed first, though not many others did. A missed word here, a slip of the tongue there. These he's able to cover up with a flair I never realised he possessed. But the chunks of memory loss? Honestly, how can you cover something up that you don't remember?

Now don't get me wrong, I'm not concerned for the human, only doing my job as it were, and my job is quite specific. "If he is to fall into any danger…yada yada…you are to come and tell me immediately." Yes, well, that would be good, wouldn't it Albus, if you were _still in the castle!_

As it was, the old goat was out and about, apparently on Ministry business. There was no way to contact him unless he summoned me directly.

How convenient.

So I had a problem on my hands…not that I have hands, but I had a problem nevertheless.

And it's all…yes, I admit it…my fault.

You see, invading a mind is a tricky business, and something that I've mastered over the years. Human minds are incredibly fragile playthings…ah, sorry…pieces of equipment, and sometimes, on occasion, us Jinn can…oh, what's the word…screw them up.

Sometimes if you're a little too rough or forceful, a clumsy Jinn can cause severe damage to the mind. I, however, am neither clumsy nor forceful, so there is only one explanation I could think of.

Voldemort.

Yes, yes, I am keeping up with current affairs, though it only recently occurred to me that if Severus was playing emissary for the two sides simultaneously, he may have employed a…self destruct button of sorts.

As I said before, a human's Legilimen's ability is crude and forceful, nothing like the delicate art of the Jinn. What Severus must have done is set a 'melt down' switch in his mind in case Voldemort was able to breach any defence he did not want violated.

Highly suicidal, but enormously impressive.

So the obvious conclusion is that while scouring his memories, I inadvertently tripped this switch of his. However, as my infiltrations are nowhere near as unsophisticated as Voldemort's would be, the reaction must be taking place much slower than what was meant to happen.

Which is annoying because if he became catatonic before I realized what was happening, I wouldn't have to find a way out of this mess.

So here I am. A fly on the wall. Literally.

He's been at it for hours now, writing. He's getting frustrated, I can see by the way he clenches his teeth and spells away the mistakes on the page more forceful than the time before.

Whops, dear, 'affable' does _not _contain the letter i.

Throwing his quill down in irritation he ran a hand through his hair, only to bring it back to his forehead to rest his head in it.

A sudden knock on the door broke the silence and he looked up. After a moment's hesitation he ordered, "Come in."

Two Prefects entered, Slytherin from what I could tell.

"Sir," the girl glided to the front of the room, "You wished to see us?"

Snape, his past annoyance hidden, nodded and handed her a piece of parchment.

"This is the schedule for the next prefect meetings. They have all the changes necessary."

"Thank you sir," the girl took the paper from his hand and stared at it. Apparently finding it satisfactory, she smiled and put it in her pocket.

"O'Donahugh?" He turned to the boy.

"Yessir? I rolled my eyes, which would be quite impressive for a fly, as the boy practically snapped to attention. He obviously took his role very seriously.

"I expect your report on my desk tomorrow morning. Have you completed it?"

"Ah….yessir." I smelt a waft of untruthfulness. He would be up late tonight, that's for sure.

Severus seemed to be thinking the same thing, but didn't mention anything.

"In any case-" and here's where the problem began. He was reaching towards his quill that he had not so elegantly thrown down minutes before, then, his hand froze. So did his voice. He remained stationary for all but two seconds, then quickly pulled back his hand in recoil.

"Yes, sir?" O'Donahugh prompted.

Severus looked up sharply, confusion not only wafting from his body like overwhelming incense, but also written plainly on his face. It took him not two seconds to assess the situation…and from what I could smell, came up with nothing.

"Are you…are you alright, sir?" The girl with the plaits made the mistake of showing concern. He then, of course, as all humans too proud for their boots do when someone shows them concern, retaliated against them.

"Of course I'm alright," he snapped, regaining his composure only in appearance, and clearly at a loss of what to say next. The girl stepped in.

"Maybe…ah, maybe I should get Madam Pom-" Big mistake.

"Don't be stupid," Severus stood up and half turned away from the pair. Then, I would guess, sense left him altogether, as his confusion gave way to panic, "What are you doing here?" He looked accusingly at the prefects, and from what I could tell, taking delight at seeing them recoil in horror, "It's late, you should be in the common room. Leave!" Becoming slightly hysterical and clearly wanting the pair out of the room, he added, "Ten points from Slytherin!" And they hightailed it out of there.

Yes. Things were _not_ going well. Still aren't, actually.

When the prefects left, he sat down on the chair. Hard. Then just stared into space for a while, trying to grasp what had happened.

By and by he looked down at the letter he had been writing, half finished, on the desk. I don't think he remembered starting it.

This was bad. This was very bad. If Dumbledore decided that I had not fulfilled my duty he could perform some awful magic and essentially rip my essence apart if he chose. Or any number of other horrible things.

From what I could tell, Severus' memories were falling at a great rate of knots into the Forgotten. And once they get there, you can't get them back.

So I now lay out to you my options. Option one: renter Severus' mind and attempt to rectify the situation. Unfortunately for me (and for him too, I suppose) this would probably make things worse. Re-entering his head for any reason would probably cause memories to disappear even faster, which would mean I did not fulfil my duty. Which is bad. Option two: hope that Dumbledore returns soon and contact him when he does. But if he doesn't return soon, I again do not fulfil my duty. Hm.

My mind wandered back to the trio who discovered the Prophecy. Not that I should be thinking of it at a time like this, but it was much more enjoyable to do so than to mull over my own fate should I fail at my 'protection' task. (What I wouldn't give for a quick and easy 'destroy' task.)

If they did manage to find the entire thing, it would be a very big event indeed, for it would tell them how to find the gate of Ifurin. I let myself float in the fantasy of that eventuality.

The fantasy, however, did not last long as I spotted two humans creep ridiculously carefully past the door the prefects had left open. One I recognized as one of the humans who had perhaps found the Prophecy, and my heart (though I don't have one) leapt. Could she be looking for it? A once-over of her mind told me yes. I didn't even have to enter it to find out, she was practically radiating the thought. Which I thought was rather considerate.

I looked down at Severus. He was still studying the letter he had been writing intently, trying desperately to remember actually writing it. I looked back at the two figures, making a decision, albeit one I did not like.

My duty was here, unfortunately, so against my desire, I remained in the classroom with Severus.

Which was a good idea, I suppose, when I come to think of it, as not ten minuets later another figure appeared in the doorway, though this one did not sneak by, nor did it rap timidly on the door.

"Severus?" The human's voice was sharp and commanding. Severus looked up.

"Minerva." He said by way of greeting. Full of pleasantries, this one.

Minerva strode into the room. We have actually met, her and I, although the meeting had not be entirely amicable. I believe she managed to transfigure me into an armchair, but I shall _not_ be going into_that_ story.

Severus stuffed the letter he'd been studying surreptitiously into the drawer.

"Severus," she did not dally on the pleasantries either, "I think we need to talk."

"Whatever O'Donahugh and Brennan told you is rubbish," he snapped, standing abruptly and turning towards some potion bottles on the shelves, feigning tidying them.

Minerva looked confused, then suspicious, "They didn't tell me anything. I've come to talk to you about what _you_ said."

From my viewpoint he looked decidedly uncomfortable.

"You _do_ remember our conversation, don't you Severus?" His jaw clenched.

"Of course I remember it. What of it?" His abrupt question did its best to cover his uneasiness.

Minerva studied his back for a moment.

"Remember how you said you were thinking of changing your syllabus for the next lot of first years?" Her question came out easy, as though she did not observe his curt comments as anything but amiable.

"What of it?" he repeated, continuing to tidy the shelves.

"Well, I spoke to Professor Sprout about it, and she said she would be happy to change her syllabus accordingly."

Severus nodded. "Very well."

Minerva stopped and looked down at her shoes, looking for all the world as if she had just been told her pet cat had died. I'm told humans can come to love the things.

"Severus," she repeated quietly, looking back up at him with a mournful face, "We never spoke about a change of syllabus." Her words hung in the air, and Severus' hand froze over a bottle of crushed doxy wings.

Gaining his voice again, and without turning to face her, he hissed, "Get out." His hand had begun to tremble, and his composure was beginning to crumble.

"Severus," Minerva spoke with a note of conviction, "You came to me yesterday, saying that you found yourself standing in this classroom with no idea of how you had come to be here."

What? What! How did I miss that!? How could I possibly have missed that!

"Do you remember that?" Minerva continued while Severus' breathing became heavier. He remained motionless and mute. "It's happened again, hasn't it?"

Severus moved painfully slowly to sit on one of the desks, his back towards the Transfiguration Professor, staring at a spot directly in front of him. She moved into his line of sight.

"I've sent an owl to Albus-"

"You WHAT?" Severus interrupted, fury and betrayal in his eyes. Minerva ignored him.

"Though I doubt he will get it, being where he is."

Confusion contorted his face again.

"What are you talking about?" he spoke quickly, not like the kind of steady tone he usually used, "The Headmaster's in his office!"

Minerva looked pained.

"Severus, Albus left yesterday after a staff meeting. We saw him off."

The Potion's Master gazed unbelievingly at his former Professor, utterly hating the fact that she spoke to him as if a child. His mind latched onto what I suppose was the only logical thought he could form.

"You're lying," he spat, standing abruptly and pushing past her. Undeterred, she ploughed on, trying a different tack that I myself had used on quite a few occasions. Slap them in the face.

"Don't be a fool, Severus. Think about this, logically. Why in Merlin's name would I lie to you? Surely you have realized…what did you do today?"

"What?" I knew that expression. He was becoming annoyed. Very.

"Just answer the question, Severus." I had never seen two humans more evenly matched in their stubbornness.

Just so she would go away sooner, I suppose, he answered, with sneering patronism "I woke up, dressed, prepared for class, taught the sixth years how to make the base mixture for wolfsbane-"

"Did you set them an essay?" Minerva interrupted.

"Wha-"

"An essay, Severus, for wolfsbane."

"Not yet…I-" but he never finished his sentence, as Minerva pulled out a pile of parchments from a drawer behind his desk and dumped them in front of him. He stared at them.

"I saw you put these here just over a week ago," she informed him. Seeing that he was making no move to open the parchments, she grabbed the one on the top, opened it, and all but shoved it in his face. "Pavarti Patil," she quoted the name from the top of the page, "An E," she picked up the next one, "Neville Longbottom, an…oh, an A." She was both surprised and pleased with that, before bringing her mind back to the current situation.

Severus stared at the parchments, horrified at what he was seeing, though hiding it rather well. After Minerva read out the seventh name, "Harry Potter," he grabbed the parchment from her hand and threw it to the floor.

"ENOUGH!" He bellowed, while at the same time sinking into the chair behind his desk.

After a few moments of silence, Minerva decided it was safe, if not entirely prudent, to speak again.

"Severus, you came to me yesterday and told me what happened. We agreed that if it happened again, I was to contact Albus. So that's what I did." She tried to look him in the eye, almost begging for him to retaliate. He had, however, begun to consider her words, if not entirely believing in them. Her voice took on a compassionate tone, "There's a…condition called regressive amnesia, which, due to intense stress or trauma, can cause a person to progressively loose their memories, making it seem as if they all of a sudden 'wake' some time in the future. In reality, though, they simply…forget."

Severus did not look up, but continued to stare at a spot on the desk. Minerva ploughed on.

"The condition is degenerative, Severus, I read up on it today, and talked to a few people," he visibly flinched at that revelation, "though I did not tell them why. If you do not get treatment now, it is highly possible that…" she let her sentence trail off, probably not wanting to reveal the horrible truth.

"Fine," He spoke quietly, still not meeting her gaze, "Tomorrow I will see Poppy." It seemed to me that just the thought of this action made him heave.

"Tomorrow may be too late-"

This time Severus interrupted, "Tomorrow, Minerva," He stated almost fiercely, "If I am to be carted off to St Mungo's for Merlin knows how long, I at least would like to have tonight to myself."

Well this was new, a somewhat self-pitying Severus. One for the record books.

Against what was probably every desire in her body, she nodded and slowly made her way towards the door.

"Poppy and I will meet you in the morning," she turned to inform him, before marching stately out of the room.

Severus did not move for a very long time. He merely sat where Minerva had left him and continued to stare at the desk. What I wouldn't give to look into his thoughts at this very moment, but I knew that it was a risk too large to take.

Eventually, he stood up and headed slowly to his personal chambers. He didn't even realize that the wards were not set on his door, I assume he forgot to arm them, another testament to his predicament. He did, however, realize that one of the interior doors was ajar. The one to his library.

My heart jumped, which was odd because as a fly I technically didn't have a heart. Nevertheless I felt a stab of shock. The two young humans! I had completely forgotten them! If they were after the Prophecy, then it was probably a good idea that Snape didn't find them in the process.

Too late for me to do anything, however, Snape was already thundering down the corridor.

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Would love it if you reviewed!! D 


	10. Chapter 9: House Elves and Prophecies

AN: Thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You're all wonderful!

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House Elves and Prophecies

Neville stared down in horror at the house elf he had just bowled over, which was now lying spread-eagle on the hard stone floor.

"Bloody hell!" he thought he heard it breathe. No, must just have been his imagination.

"Ah, I'm sorry," he moved towards it, intending to help it up.

"Never mind, never mind," the house elf quickly got to his feet and brushed himself off, "What are you doing out here anyway?" The house elf demanded.

"What?" Neville had never seen such forceful words come from a house elf's mouth before.

"Oh," the house elf froze for a second before falling to his knees, "Dinky is so sorry sir, Dinky is only worried for the young Gryffindor's safety, sir. Please forgive Dinky for such awful language and spite sir. Dinky is never meaning any ill to young sir!"

Neville wasn't sure exactly how to respond. "Ah, well, that's okay," he tried walking away from the practically prostrate house elf, but the elf threw himself in front of him, blocking his path.

"O most Forgiving and Wonderful young sir, you are so very noble and kind to Dinky. How can Dinky ever repay young Gryffindor sir?"

"Ah," Neville was still in shock, "That's okay, ah…Dinky, you don't have to do anything. I'll just be going now." He tried to slip past the house elf, but Dinky moved back into his way.

"Oh, sir!" he wailed, his hands flailing in the air which prevented him passing by, "You are so Noble and Wonderful, young sir, such nobility, such…wonderfulness." 

"Ah…" Neville was becoming slightly disconcerted with the elf. "That's fine, but I have to go now." 

"Go?" The house elf looked at him as his flailing arms fell to his side, "Where is young master going, may I ask, O Magnificent sir? Not that it is any of Dinky's business, but if I may make your journey all the more expedient, I would be delighted to engage in such a task!" 

The way to make my journey quicker, Neville thought, is if you would just get out of my way. He did not, however, voice his thoughts.

"Look," Neville breathed, "I have to see Professor McGonagall. It's…it's important. Okay? So I'll just be…"

"Oh," the house nodded vigorously, almost jumping up and down with the motion, "Yes, yes, Professor McGonagall. Young, Outstanding sir off to see Professor McGonagall. But you is going the wrong way, O Bounteous One!" 

"What?" Neville knew he was going the right way, he wasn't that stupid.

"Yes, yes, Professor McGonagall is with Professor Snape now, most Wondrous sir!"

"With Professor Snape?"

"Yes, O Merciful sir, in the dungeons!"

"Are you…sure?" Neville remembered Ron telling Hermione and him that McGonagall went into the dungeons, but that she also left soon after. How could she still be down there now?

The house elf remained as cheerful as ever.

"Sure, most Dignified sir, sure as Dinky can be! Professor McGonagall is worried about Professor Snape, sir. She came back here after seeing him, sir, and paced her rooms. Then she asked Dinky to check on Professor Snape, sir, and Dinky checked, and Professor Snape is not doing too well, sir, and Dinky told Professor McGonagall so, sir, and she went back down there, sir…sir."

The house elf finally paused for a breath, his large ears flapping.

"But they are coming here, O Ingenious sir, to Professor Mcgonagall's chambers and Dinky is preparing tea for them, sir!"

Neville's head was spinning. Snape was coming with McGonagall to have tea in her chambers? At this time of night? Or morning, as it was almost three o'clock. Well one thing was certain, there was no way Neville was hanging around to see McGonagall if Snape was with her. Once in the night was bad enough.

"Oh, that's okay," he said to the house elf, "I think I'll just wait until breakfast." 

He began to walk briskly back to his dorm rooms. The house elf, however, bounded after him.

"Wait, O Most Wondrous Gryffindor sir!" Neville cringed. Surely someone would notice him out of his dorm room, with this hyperactive elf practically yelling down the walls. "Gracious sir is not wanting to see Professor Snape? That is understandable, noble sir, but poor Professor Snape is not feeling very well at the moment, sir. Professor McGonagall thinks he is suffering from stress, most considerate sir, but Dinky knows the truth, sir."

Neville turned to look at the house elf, whose eyes had grown wide and were staring at him in a mixture of horror and excitement.

"The truth?" Neville didn't really want to know, but he couldn't help but asking the eccentric elf.

"Yes, sir," Dinky's voice became quiet and foreboding, "It is _them_, sir."

The elf looked from side to side to see if anything else had heard him. "It is _them!"_

"Them?" Neville was caught off guard by the elf's sudden change in demeanour. At the moment, all he wanted at the moment was to go back to bed. Instead, he asked, "Who's them?"

Dinky's voice lowered to another level of quietness and his eyes bulged like a balloon, "Them, sir, is the wicked ones."

Neville's breath caught in his throat, "Demons?" He whispered back, not wanting to speak the word aloud.

Dinky seemed to shrink back from the word he spoke.

"They is coming, sir, us house elves knows it, sir." Dinky was practically trembling in his dishrags, "But it is said, sir, that a group of humans will save us, sir. Will save everyone….from _them_. The humans will find a prophecy, sir, a prophecy that will tell them a way to destroy the Demons and save us."

Neville himself began to tremble. A prophecy? Could it just be a coincidence? The house elf was still talking.

"Professor Snape is the first, sir, but soon there will be others to follow. We all will fall if they are not stopped!"

Neville made up his mind.

"Dinky, what else do you know about this prophecy?"

Dinky looked around, making sure once again that no one was listening. 

"I is not supposed to tell you, sir, but since good sir is kind and noble, I will. The first bit, sir, I know the first bit of the prophecy. Do you wish to hear it, sir?"

Neville nodded his head as vigorously as he could, and leaned closer to the elf. Dinky, in return, leaned to whisper in his ear.

"And Balder's pile of the glowing sun

A symbol true blazed forth;

But soon its splendour sinketh down

When Höder rules the earth."

Dinky moved his head back to look at Neville, and the Gryffindor almost fainted on the spot. He had heard two of those lines merely hours ago; it couldn't possible be a coincidence.

"But, what does it mean?" Neville implored the house elf in front of him. Before the elf could answer, however, they heard footsteps come from down the corridor.

Dinky's eyes grew wide again.

"They is coming, sir!" he whispered sharply, "The Professors. If they see young Gryffindor sir out of bed, they may be angry! Best to hide, sir! And Dinky must prepare tea!"

Neville didn't realise how fast a house elf could move, as before he knew it, he was standing in the middle of the corridor alone. He whipped his head around, looking for a place to hide, as the footsteps became louder. Deciding his best bet was to crouch behind the bigger than life size statue of Sir Frederick the Feisty, he managed to tuck his legs in just in time, as Snape and McGonagall came around the corner.

Snape, he realised from peering between Frederick's large boots, was looking rather tired and not at all in the mood to be visiting the Transfiguration Professor.

"Really, Minerva, I don't think this is a good idea. I have to prepare for tomorrow's classes."

Minerva cut him off. "Really, Severus, this won't take long. I just wish to discuss something with you that is of some importance."

"Why, then, could we not discuss it-" And for the second time that night, Neville saw it happen.

Snape froze. His face slackened as the sentence he was about to complete left him. Minerva had only taken two steps before realising what was happening. The Potion's Master swayed forwards, and Minerva, petite as she was, grabbed his shoulders and held him upright.

Moments passed before Snape found his footing and was able to keep on his feet of his own accord. Then, it took all of Neville's self control not to yell out in shock. Snape's face did not become passive and confused, as it did in his library. Instead, it took on a look of utter horror. His mouth opened in almost slow motion, and before Minerva realised what was happening, he let out an incredibly pained cry.

"NAAAOO!" He roared, grasping Minerva's wrists and ripping them from his shoulders. He threw her with incredible force so that she practically rebounded off the wall he had thrown her into and landed on the ground.

Neville was frozen to the spot, too shocked to move, and he watched, breathing heavily as Severus himself fell to the floor and began retreating form McGonagall's form as fast as he could. The only reason neither professor heard Neville was because his panicked breaths were not nearly as loud as Snape's.

Minerva, thankfully, did not seem to be too badly hurt, though she struggled to stand and make her way to Snape, one hand grasping her head.

"Severus," she gasped, "Severus, it's alright. It's me, Minerva." Severus, however, did not seem to hear her, and he continued to slide backwards in blind panic. To his horror, his back quickly collided with a wall.

Minerva continued forwards towards him, and knelt down a metre away from his form, which was trying desperately to sink into the wall. "Professor Snape!" She demanded more firmly, "Stop this at once!"

Her firm tone and use of formal title seemed to have its desired effect as Snape's breathing slowed noticeably and he blinked repeatedly at the older Professor in front of him. Then, it seemed, he realized where he was.

"Minerva?" He questioned tentatively, not entirely believing it was her. She nodded, then grimaced slightly at the movement.

"What…what-"

"It's okay, Severus," she said quietly, reaching out for him and helping his to his feet, "You're alright now."

He looked at her, then at his surroundings disbelievingly. Neville grasped the back of Frederick's boot so hard his knuckles turned white, silently thanking Providence that Frederick was a fairly chunky man and hid him well. He had never seen his Potion's Professor in a state of confusion such as this before, it was even worse than in the library.

"How…" Severus swallowed hard, "How did I get here?" He continued to look around in distress.

Minerva sighed, "You've been here all the time, Severus." He looked at her in utmost confusion.

"But I…I was…" Minerva took his arm and began to lead him towards her chambers.

"It's alright, I know this is a shock. I'll explain everything in my chambers."

"But…the Death Eaters…" Snape whispered this comment so softly that Neville only just heard it as the two walked away towards McGonagall's quarters. She had said something in reply but Neville couldn't make out what it was. Deciding that it was probably best to wait until at least sun up before he tried to talk to her again, he walked back up to the dormitories.

Trudging up the stairs, Neville's mind replayed the scene he had just witnessed. He had not seen his Professor so…vulnerable before. He seemed to have been petrified of something. The Death Eaters. That's what he had whispered while walking away. What exactly was it that Snape did for Dumbledore? He and the others pretty much knew, but they had never witnessed any of the consequences, or Snape's reaction to them.

Exhausted, he threw himself into bed and eventually drifted off into a restless sleep.

Back in the corridor recently vacated by Neville and the Professors, the statue of Frederick the Feisty began to change. It slowly shrunk, then melted back into the form it had appeared as only minutes before.

Dinky the house elf sauntered in the direction of the kitchens, an oddly triumphant smile on his, or perhaps her, face.

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	11. Chapter 10: Apocalyptic Apogee

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Apocalyptic Apogee

Sunday morning came with excessive speed, according to Neville. It also brought with it an unexpected attack of sleet. Well, close enough.

Ron and Harry were also a little affronted by how fast the morning arrived.

"Well, at least it isn't Monday." Harry's statement was punctuated by a large yawn as they made their way towards the Great Hall, wrapping their cloaks further around them as the wild and freezing weather permeated the castle.

There were a few people conspicuous by their absence, Neville noticed, Snape and McGonagall being two of them. Hermione was the significant other.

"Where d'you think she is?" Ron looked bleary eyed at Harry, who had his cheek in his hand and was trying very hard not to nod off.

Harry shrugged, "Sleeping, probably, like we should be."

Returning to the dorms, however, all three realized Hermione wasn't in fact sleeping in. Instead, she was sitting at a table in the common room with numerous pieces of parchment strewn all over the place. She looked up at them as they entered, and called them over. It was then that they realized dark rings around her eyes, which were, surprisingly, as bright as ever.

"Um, Hermione," Ron began slowly, "Exactly how many hours of sleep did you get last night?"

"Well, I did try to get to sleep, but I couldn't stop thinking about this," she gestured to the parchments in front of her. They were covered in various variations of the lines of the poem…or prophecy, they had learnt "So I've begun to put it together!"

"Ah, Hermione," Harry began much as Ron had, with expert caution, "You mean to say you've had no sleep at all? Don't you think you're working a little too hard on this?"

She sighed in her characteristic way usually reserved for Ron. "I've pulled all-nighter's before, Harry, don't worry. This is just too intriguing to put down! Look at this!" She shoved a piece of parchment under his nose. It was the beginnings of what seemed to be the most promising formulation. Ron perused it.

"It still doesn't make any sense." He observed.

Neville looked over Ron's shoulder and gasped.

"Neville, what is it?" Hermione looked at him with hope and concern, trying to decide between the two emotions.

"I forgot!" He slapped his forehead, "I met this odd house elf last night-"

"Last night?" Harry questioned, "But you were with us!"

"Well, actually, I…had to go to the bathroom after you had gone to sleep. Anyway, I ran into this house elf, and he told me something about the Demons."

"About Demons? What do house elves know about Demons?" Ron admonished.

Hermione looked at him, "Probably more than we think. House elves have their own brand of magic, and many secrets we know nothing about…honestly, if you'd just _read_ a little more-"

"Okay, okay!" Ron didn't want that lecture again, "Go on, Neville."

"This house elf, Dinky, said that the Demons were out to get us. That they had already gotten to Professor Snape.

"You mean that the house elves think that we're about to be invaded by Demons?" Harry didn't think that they would keep that kind of knowledge to themselves.

"Not just that," Neville continued, "He told me the first part of the prophecy!" And he told them.

"Neville, how did you remember all of that? No offence, but you usually can't remember the common room password!"

"Ron!" Hermione admonished.

"I…don't know, but I remembered it had some of the lines that you had already found. Do you think it'll help?"

Silence followed, as Hermione scribbled it down and looked over the parchment she had been working on. He mouth formed into a silent 'O' while she rolled her eyes and mock-slapped her forehead.

"Of course," she muttered, "what was I thinking?" She presented the paper to Harry, who, looking around the common room to make sure no one could hear, read the poem out loud.

"And Balder's pile of the glowing sun

A symbol true blazed forth;

But soon its splendour sinketh down

When Höder rules the earth.

"And he who 'bides within them both

Though does from one abate

Shall be the one who carries on

And finds Ifurins' gate

"The twins must rein but equals

One must not be left in truss

Accept this charge unquestioned, which

Begins at Erebus."

"I still don't get it," Ron informed them after a few moments of silence.

She rolled her eyes, "Is there any book you _do_ read?" She cut off Ron's retort by continuing, "Hödur and Balder were mythical twins. Balder typified day, light, goodness and such, and Hödur typified night and wickedness. According to the tale, Hödur killed Balder at the instigation of Loki, the trickster."

"So what has that got to do with-"

"I'm not finished. It's said when there was imbalance between the two, light and dark basically, then the balance has to be set right again, or chaos will ensue. See? 'The twins must rein but equals, one must not be left in truss,' one can't be weaker than the other. That's what this is asking! To "accept this charge" and ensure there is a balance. "

Ron looked at Hermione and pulled the most contorted face he could manage. "You're not serious, are you?" He asked, becoming once again unsure of why exactly they were so worried about a poem that sounded entirely cryptic and pointless. "Hermione, this is just a bunch of…I don't know…how do you know that this – whatever it is – actually wants us to do anything?"

"We've already been through this, Ron," Hermione sounded exasperated, "I just have a feeling that we should look into this. And what do we have to lose if we do?"

Before anyone was able to make comment, though, Ginny came racing into the common room. Catching sight of them, she hurried over, out of breath and red faced.

"You will _never_ guess what just happened!"

"What?" Ron looked at her sister in only slightly veiled trepidation.

"It was _disgusting_! Absolutely grotesque! You'll never believe it! _I_ can hardly believe it - and I was there!"

"WHAT?" Ron, of course.

Ginny took a deep breath and took a moments pride in being the one to break the news.

"Okay, well, most of the people had left from breakfast, but as you know there are quite a few who stay behind on Sundays because it is rather nice to be able to-"

"GINNY!"

"Yes, yes, alright, keep your hat on, Ron. So then, we hear this commotion just outside the great hall. It sounded like Snape and McGonagall, which is odd because they very rarely their voices to anyone, let alone each other. Then, all of a sudden, Snape burst into the hall yelling 'Where is he?' with McGonagall racing behind him.

"Then, oh, you'll never believe this, he raced up to Trelawny, who as you know has been joining us for meals for the past few weeks, and _grabbed her-_physically _grabbed her_, by the collar of her robes, picked her up and practically screamed into her face 'you're supposed to know everything, where is he?' which is when McGonagall stepped in and pried him away from Trelawny.

"I can't even comprehend what happened next! He pushed away from McGonagall and began running back towards the entrance, lost his footing half way there and fell, sprawling onto the floor!"

The looks on the faces of the four she was addressing were a mixture of disbelief, horror, and an overwhelming despair that they had not witnessed the event. The latter was especially radiating from Ron.

"And that's not all of it!" Ginny was especially enjoying all of the attention she was gaining, though it was somewhat overshadowed by a sense of trepidation. "He tried to get up, after he fell, but…well…didn't quite make it off the floor. Then, just as McGonagall was coming towards him, very worried, mind you, he-"

"_Vomited all over the floor!_" Seamus practically boomed as soon as he was in the common room, sending every head within earshot towards him, "Both me and Dean saw it with our own eyes! Snape! Threw up in front of almost the _entire school_!"

Ginny gave Seamus a death stare.

Hermione, Ron, Harry and Neville's expressions all turned to one of disgust while the rest of the common room began to talk loudly. Ron was beginning to think it was probably all for the best that he wasn't there…then again, he doubted Snape would ever live this one down.

"It was awful!" Ginny continued, attempting to bring the attention back to her, "Me and Luna were right next to him. Then McGonagall called to Draco, who was still in the hall, and they helped Snape off the floor and onto his feet and took him to what I can only assume to be the hospital wing. The whole way out of the hall, though, he was still yelling, but this time, he was screaming 'they're here, they're here!"

"They?" Harry looked very concerned, "They who?"

"He was probably delirious," Hermione surmised, "Otherwise he would never have acted that way to Trelawny. There must be something seriously wrong with him."

"Do you think it's contagious?" Ron's voice was laced with a mixture of fear and disgust.

"I don't know what it is exactly," Hermione had on her thinking face and was staring hard at nothing two feet in front of her, " but there is definitely something up. Both Snape and that house elf both spoke about Demons, we happen to run into this prophecy – or whatever it is – Snape's been going down hill for days, and now this."

'Yeah,' thought Neville, 'And we do crazy things like breaking into the Head of Slytherin's library. Honestly, what's next?'

llllll

The singular drop of water meandered down the transparent surface, halting now and then, as if debating with itself about which was the best path, the safest, the one that would bring it most efficiently to its destination. It halted again and traversed in a rightward sort of direction, leaving a trail behind it. Presently, it ran into another droplet, and they merged, becoming one.

So two became one. But this new droplet, this bigger one, was it one in itself, or just the sum of the other two? Were they inextricably linked now, or was it possible to separate them?

The glass was shifted by another, and brought closer to him. He knew this, but did not respond. He was busy.

"You've been staring at this for the past half an hour. Won't you drink it?" a kindly looking, though determined witch with grey hair looked down at him and held the glass to his lips. He pursed them shut. She sighed.

He did not remember her name. Not because it escaped him, like so many other things had, but because he chose not to. The name of her and all of her qualities and essence, what he knew of her, was wrapped tightly in a web of indestructible fibre, a cocoon of sorts, and deposited into the Forgotten.

There, _They_ could not reach it, though neither could he. There, it would be safe from _Their_ pilfering. Only one could pull them out, once _They_ were gone. All he had lost so far could never be returned to him. How long was it? Months? Years?

It didn't matter. All that mattered now was saving what was left. By keeping the rest of his memories safe in the Forgotten, they could not be taken by _Them_.

At the moment, he was wrapping the Wolfsbane potion and concentrating on the drop of water was helping him focus.

The moment he had realized what was happening, he attempted to thrust _It_ from his mind, but _It_ held fast, creating within him a most unexpected wave of nausea, enough to rival even the most virulent poison. It was trying to dissuade him from flushing _It_ out. And It won.

He had felt himself being lifted from the floor. His eyes had made contact with a youth who was looking at him with fear and concern, and a wave of panic had hit him straight in the gut. He tried to make the youth understand, tried to make them all understand, "It's Them! It's Them!" but he knew they would not know, could not possibly know what he did. So he began to salvage what he could, and hid the rest of his knowledge, in the Forgotten.

But the Forgotten was strong; he knew that if he knew nothing else. It would eventually wear away at the cocoons and eat at his memories and have itself a feast like no other.

Only one could pull them out, and before he forgot how, he prayed that the one would not be too late.

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Reviews are extraordinarily appreciated! D


	12. Chapter 11: Scavenger

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Scavenger

Another wave of nausea hit him, greater this time than the one previously. It was trying to stop him salvaging what he could from his already heavily barricaded mind.

He sat up suddenly, and before he even registered the rising bile in his throat, a great gush of warm liquid and food pieces came pouring from his mouth and onto the clean, white sheets.

Not knowing exactly why, he felt disgusted with the thought of having done that. Disgust and shame and…

"Oh, dear," The witch who had previously offered him the water came rushing to his side. He lowered his head, not meeting her concerned gaze as she muttered a cleaning spell. This, however, did not rid his mouth from the awful taste of pre-digested food and acid from his gut. The glass of water once again was offered to his lips, and this time he took the liquid into his mouth.

Letting the cool liquid permeate all the recesses in his mouth, he spat it out again into a small bucket being held beneath his chin. That done, he was lowered onto his back once more.

"Severus?" the witch tried to get his attention.

Was that his name then? Severus? It was possible, it touched on a familiar echo of something that was, but the true answer was buried beneath the eternally flowing river of not remembering, and so he could not be entirely sure.

"Please," he whispered without looking at her, his voice harsh from the recent onslaught of acid, "Find him." He did not exactly know for whom he was pleading, just that this person was important somehow. "I need to see him."

"We are looking, Severus," the witch said, leaning over to squeeze his arm gently, "And we will find Albus soon. However, in the meantime, I would like to ask you some questions, alright?"

Without waiting for an answer, she began. "Do you know your name?"

Not having much else to do, and deciding to humour the witch, he answered. "Severus." He wasn't that thick.

"Severus…who?"

After several moments of hesitation, "I don't know." Because he really didn't.

"You don't know?" she repeated. What, like he would make it up! He didn't reply.

"So you know your first name, but not your last…"

"Of course I know it, you twit," he spat, "you just said it not thirty seconds ago…twice!" His voice was stronger now, and he was pleased with that.

The witch was obviously taken back by his outburst and seemed to be at a loss for words. She recovered fast, though.

"Okay, fair enough," she placated with the ghost of a grin, "What about this school, do you remember its name?"

He stared crossly at her. Of course he didn't.

"You're asking in the wrong direction," he asserted, noticing another witch with sterner features approach.

The first witch looked at him uncertainly. "I'm…not sure I know what you mean-"

"I _mean_ that you're asking me about things that are important. I've already hidden everything that's important."

He had made the acerbic comment only out of frustration. He didn't really expect her to understand. Besides, he was becoming very tired and wanted to be left alone. If he could irritate her enough so that she'd leave, so much the better.

She shook her head in despair and he immediately felt a twinge of guilt for having made the comment with such a biting tone. The other witch, the one with a severe expression, spoke.

"What exactly do you mean, 'hidden everything'?" She seemed to be studying him closely.

He sighed, how could he possibly explain? It had taken him years to fully comprehend how he could manipulate his mind in such an intricate manner. In fact, his knowledge was so broad and diverse on the subject that he was still working on wrapping its contents, and the knowledge of the wrapping itself was almost completely cocooned, ready at any moment to be sealed shut and plunged into the Forgotten.

Nevertheless, because she looked at him with such a need for information, he tried.

"_They_ have come. I don't know why, or how, but one is…within me, I felt it. It is searching for something, but what, I also do not know." He realized how dead his voice sounded, but decided he was too tired to put any real emphasis on anything. His eyelids began to droop. "The easiest…the easiest way for It to s-search through a mind is to extract memories, like remov-removing them to place in a pensive," _Must cocoon the knowledge of tha, next_, "And sort th…rough them externally. T-th-this…" he paused, becoming uncomfortably aware of the increasing difficulty in forming words.

The stern looking witch seemed to have noticed also. He shook his head, thinking that he must be more tired than he realized. He took a deep breath.

"This one, it is trying t-to t-t-ta-take, hhhe is t-t-ta-" he began to hyperventilate slightly as realization crashed in on him. _It_ was taking his speech.

"Severus?" the first witch leaned over him in concern but he didn't pay her any heed. Realisation had hit him like a sledgehammer. The Demon knew it could not prevent him from salvaging his memories by merely making him unbelievably ill. It was attempting a different tactic. It would not only take his memories that may have been useful for whatever It needed them for, but _everything_.

He slammed his eyes shut and tried to concentrate. He began to spin the resilient web and wrap it around the broadest area of his knowledge of speech that he could. The Demon realised, and pulled harder.

He spun the web, faster, faster and wrapped it haphazardly around this precious knowledge. The sphere he was creating was becoming stronger, but it was becoming harder to hold onto. And the demon pulled.

He had now immersed himself in his task, removing himself from the outside, where the two witches attempted to rouse him.

The tugging became stronger, and bits of vocabulary slipped through his clasp like melting snow through grasping fingers. No, no! He wrapped faster, panic rising.

He felt a jolt and the sphere almost slipped from his grip, and he realized the Demon had managed a strong grasp and was trying to wrench it from his possession. He held on, though his essence was trembling.

Faster, faster, he wrapped wildly with an alarming sense of urgency, and still, the demon pulled.

Wild, red eyes forced themselves into his awareness and burned into his senses. He saw them, heard them, felt them and noticed the fear radiating through his essence. The sphere slipped through his fingers.

NO! His entire essence screamed and he lunged for the precious cargo within. He dived after it with intense panic but the sphere had been pulled from his reach. He lunged again, fiercely searching for the sphere's presence. Nothing.

He let out a shrieking cry that may or may not have permeated through the walls he had constructed leading to the outside. He lunged again, blindly and desperately, and let out another cry, this one of relief as the equivalent of his fingers grasped the sphere.

He wrenched it towards him and wrapped in a crazed frenzy, all the while moving towards the Forgotten. He was bombarded with images and sounds and smells but he ignored them. All he would focus on was the sphere.

And then it was done, it was wrapped. Tightly and securely in its cocoon, he thrust it into the swirling, burning liquid.

He felt, heard, smelt, tasted, and saw the demon's fury as it wreaked havoc on his senses from within. With one last desperate cry, he flung himself from his own mind to the outside, where he took a massive gasp of air, then fell back onto the sweat-soaked sheets.

The two witches surrounding him spoke words of soothing comfort as he fell, exhausted, into the blissful state of unconsciousness.

lllllllllll

Blast and damnation! Holy Heaven be blast to Hades!

Bloody Hell!

Assumption IS the mother of all foul-ups.

Excuse the momentary lapse in self-possession, I am not usually so emotional.

Truth be told, however, I am not completely to blame here. Albus is the one who should really be taking the heat; 'Another Jinn,' he said, was sent to destroy Severus. Get that? Jinn! Not _Efreet!_ Now I'm not usually one for self depreciation, but we Jinn know our limits, and proper respect and due must be paid to those Ifacaucins who are, for lack of a better description, far more powerful than us. And Efreet certainly fall into that category.

In fact, Efreet are so powerful, that it is extremely rare for them to be found in this world at all, as only an extremely potent Wizard is able to summon and control them. Actually, come to think of it, I've never known any Wizard to be truly successful at controlling an Efreet. (What? You don't believe me? What does Atlantis tell you?)

How was it, then, that an Efreet had managed to sneak into Hogwarts and into Snape's mind? And more importantly, who had commanded it?

An Efreet can operate on ten planes. Ten! Though the last two are rather superfluous and are used more for showing off, as long as it can alter its appearance on eight planes, it is undetectable from all other Ifacaucins. Which is why I had not been aware of its presence.

That is, until our favourite Potion's Master made it painfully obvious. Quite literally.

I don't know how he did it, quite a feat (for a human), if you ask me, but somehow he had discovered the Efreet's presence, right after he came centimetres close to having an 'inappropriate contact between colleagues' lawsuit filed against him. (You heard how he practically assaulted Trelawny, I presume.)

Then he panicked.

Too bad for me. As soon as he realized what was happening, he sent out the most vicious pulse of magical energy meant to sear the essence of any Ifacaucin in the proximity of Hogwarts (thought I am entirely sure someone would have felt it in Wales). For my part, I was in the form of a spider and the pain was _excruciating_. It felt as though…well, let's just say the cruciatus curse is a mild hex in comparison.

The Efreet was thrown as well, and with the sudden shock, it let its guard down and revealed itself on the seventh plane. I caught sight of it just as it gathered itself and basically dive-bombed back into Severus' head.

It took me a little longer to recover. It was lucky I was not right by him or I would most certainly have been fried.

Heh. And I thought him going insane was due to me.

Okay, so this definitely rated in Albus' criteria of 'danger which may prove detrimental to his health' and my orders were to report to him. Once that was done, the order would be fulfilled and I could resume my peaceful existence away from here. However, I still had no idea where the old coot was.

And neither did anyone else from what I could figure.

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Please Review!!

AN: Whoops, I forgot to reply about this to a review.-- I can't remember exactly the true mythology of Imps, Jinns and Efreets since I researched them years ago for this story, but I'm pretty sure they're from Arabic mythology. A variation of these are used in Johnathan Stroud's The Amulet of Samarkand, but I've mushed them about to fit into this story. They are now intertwined with my own inventions.


	13. Chapter 12: Vigil

AN: Just a short chapter today, so hopefully I'll have the next one up soon.

Thank you to the awesomeness that is reviewers!

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Vigil

Minerva found herself, once again, pacing incessantly by the hospital bed currently accommodating her usually acerbic coworker. One could never call her exactly…maternal; she left that role to people like Molly Weasley, although in times of great turmoil she would inevitably let slip her concern. And this, she felt, certainly qualified for such an expression.

Poppy approached her and wordlessly handed the Professor a cup of tea, if only to cause her to sit and drink it, and thereby be relatively still. It worked, too, until she raised the cup to her mouth, then changed her mind. Placing the cup and saucer on the small bedside table, she sighed.

"I apologise, Poppy," she said frankly, "I realize that I may be more of a nuisance here than elsewhere, but I have honestly exhausted all courses of action."

Poppy smiled reassuringly and nodded, "I understand perfectly, Minerva. I have contacted everyone I know to discover the cause of this," she gestured to her unresponsive patient, "And to see if they could make sense of what he was saying before he passed out, but no one can seem to give me any more details than what we already know."

Minerva sighed again and wearily closed her eyes. For almost twenty-four hours he had been like this. Flat on his back, eyes half opened staring unseeingly in front of him, one could be forgiven for believing he was dead. Except there was the subtle rise and fall of the chest, and the slow but steady escape of saliva from his slightly opened mouth which the Transfiguration Professor had taken it upon herself to absorb with a handkerchief at regular intervals. Strangely, it was this more than anything that brought home the seriousness of his predicament.

Poppy sighed and looked at Minerva, "You know, perhaps it would be best if he was cared for by someone with the…correct knowledge of this sort of thing."

Minerva turned to look stoically at the Mediwitch, "You mean St Mungo's?" She more accused than questioned.

"Only until Albus has returned," Poppy tried to smooth over.

Minerva shook her head fiercely. "He will remain here _until_ Albus has returned. He will know what to do," she said in a tone that effectively ended the conversation.

"Speaking of Albus," Poppy did not quite change the subject, "Have you heard from him?"

Minerva's voice became softer, "No, I have not. No one has, it seems." Her thoughts drifted back to the day that Albus had left Hogwarts. It was not that long ago, really, although considering their current predicament, it seemed like an eternity.

He had called an immediate staff meeting, which he held, as always, in his office. "I am afraid that I must leave Hogwarts on important business," he had told them. "The ministry has requested an urgent meeting, however, I am currently unaware of its purpose."

There was a murmur throughout the room that was silenced by Albus holding up his palm. "I realize that this is unusual, however I have been informed that it is of the utmost importance that I attend. Therefore, I shall be leaving this afternoon."

"For how long will you be gone?" Minerva had spoken up before anyone else could. He had looked at her with his ubiquitous twinkle, although she was sure she spied some hesitation in his eyes as well, "That, I am not sure. It could be as long as…a month," there was a communal gasp of sorts, but no one voiced their surprise beyond that. Albus continued, "I have also been informed that during this meeting, no one will be able to contact me, nor will I be able to make contact with you."

This had brought forward rather vocal protests. It was suspicious enough that Albus be called away to an immediate meeting that could possibly last for a _month_, and more concerning still that he be made incommunicado for its duration. Albus tried to alleviate the concern.

"I understand your expressions of concern; the Ministry has made no secret of its dislike towards my continuing service as Headmaster of this school, however, I believe that Minister Fudge has decided to put animosity aside for the moment in light of more pressing matters."

With nothing else to do but trust his judgment, the staff of Hogwarts had seen the Headmaster off immediately after the school had broken for the weekend.

So now all Minerva could do was wait for him to return. When she and Draco had originally dragged the Potion's Professor up to the hospital wing, he had been ranting about something, yelling 'It's them,' over and over. As they attempted to subdue him, he had grabbed hold of the front of Minerva's robes. 'Find the Headmaster,' he had pleaded, 'he knows them! Please, just find him!'

It had been very uncharacteristic of him to plead with such urgency, or to plead at all, when she thought of it. It pained her to know that his one request could not be fulfilled, and that it could be weeks before they could contact Albus again.

Due to her thoughts, Minerva had not noticed Poppy had left her side. Nor did she notice the sudden blink from the patient lying in front of her. In fact, she noticed neither until the aforementioned patient began to moan.

She was immediately brought back into the present and snapped her head up to look at him.

"Poppy!" she called, after realizing the mediwitch was currently attending her herbal stores. Poppy hurried to the bedside and bent down over her patient. Realising that his eyes were now focusing, she attempted to coax him all the way into consciousness.

"Severus?" she questioned, unsure if he could hear her, "Come now, dear, it's time to come back to us."

He blinked a few times to clear his vision and focused upon her face. His eyes, however, did not display recognition, only a gentle pleading look, which almost ripped Minerva's heart through her throat. With that innocent and trusting gaze, she knew. They had lost him.

"Can you hear me, Severus?" Poppy tried to reach him. He did not respond.

The mediwitch carefully pulled his upper body from the mattress and had Minerva place pillows beneath him so as to be in a semi-inclined position. It could, of course, have been done by magic, but one could never be too careful with things one did not understand.

Poppy reached for the ubiquitous glass of water on the bedside table and while supporting his head, held the glass to his lips. She poured the water slowly into his mouth, but no sooner had the first drops of it reached his throat, he began to cough and splutter, unable to swallow it.

Poppy frowned and looked at Minerva.

"I'll be back in a second." Without waiting for a reply, she strode off towards a storage room.

Minerva gazed down at her colleague who had once been her student. He seemed so helpless, a state that in all the years she had known him as a child, even with the constant antagonism of others, he never seemed to fall into, and as an adult even less so.

She cringed as another drop of saliva, or perhaps water, slid down his chin while he continued to cough weakly. She hurridly wiped it away.

Poppy returned quickly, with a small bowl of water and a clean handkerchief. The mediwitch placed the bowl on the bedside table and dipped the material into it. Wringing it out slightly, she placed the wet end to Severus' mouth. He immediately began greedily sucking the water from the cloth. Minerva tried to hide her grimace. For some reason, seeing a person so usually strong and sure of themselves be reduced to sucking water from a cloth was almost too much to bear. It was even more so when Poppy removed the handkerchief from his mouth to dip it in the water again, and he whimpered softly.

Minerva felt a sudden annoyance at Albus. Why did he have to go to that ridiculous meeting in the first place? Why, when they explicitly needed him here? She thrust such thoughts from her mind almost as quickly as they entered. Goodness, get a grip, Minerva, five minutes without him and you're running scared. Honestly!

Still, she felt his absence strongly though chided herself for needing his presence so much. She wished, although it was a very childish thing to do, that he could at least make contact with someone at Hogwarts.

Little did she know, however, that in another wing of the castle, far from her immediate thoughts, a young man had received an early letter delivered by a beautiful,

rare bird. She could not possibly have known that at that moment, he was opening it curiously with two inquisitive friends peering over his shoulder.

In the Gryffindor common room, deserted now as most had made their way to breakfast, Harry removed the mysterious letter from the nondescript envelope.

_Dear Harry,_ it began, though that was hardly surprising. The _Signed, Albus Dumbledore_ at the end was what really caught his attention.

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If you've made it this far, it should be no effort at all to hit the review button. ;D


	14. Chapter 13: Messages from the Beyond

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Messages from the Beyond

Dear Harry

_Do not allow any other person to view this letter. Tell no one of its existence. This is very important. (With, of course, the exception of Mr Weasley and Miss Granger.)_

_I realise that what I am about to ask of you may be baffling, however, I am not in the possession of sufficient time to explain substantially._

_You may or may not have noticed a change in the behaviour of Professor Snape, however, I suspect you have._

_Ask Miss Granger about the _Opdieatrum_ spell. Perform it on Severus as soon as possible; all three of you. Find the key. Please._

_There is not much time._

_I will explain everything upon my return._

_Signed,_

_Albus Dumbledore._

Well. This was certainly unexpected.

Harry read the letter. Then reread it. He then had Ron and Hermione read it in turn.

Harry had received many letters from Dumbledore previously, and although the handwriting was familiar, he could tell it had been written in haste.

"Bit cryptic, don't you think?" Ron squinted at the message, then handed it once more to Hermione. "So. What is this Opdi-whatever spell you're supposed to know about?"

Hermione looked intently at the piece of parchment the letter was written on, almost looking annoyed at it. She shook her head, "I don't know. I've never heard of it before."

"Well that's great, if Hermione doesn't know it, then it doesn't exist, so the letter's fake." His tone held only slight sarcasm.

"Don't be thick, Ron," Hermione chided, "Fawkes delivered the letter, so it must be from Dumbledore."

"But I thought McGonagall said that Dumbledore wouldn't be in contact with anyone for a while," Harry remembered a girl from Ravenclaw complaining quite loudly in the corridor that she wanted to see the Headmaster, and the Transfiguration Professor explaining quite firmly that it was impossible at the moment. "Isn't he supposed to be at some important Ministry meeting? And what's this about a key?"

Hermione didn't answer, but continued to study the letter. Suddenly, she took in a sharp breath. "Oh, now I…goodness, it was right…do you think it could…I still have-" And with that she ran from the common room and up to the girl's dorms.

Harry and Ron just looked at each other. "And she thinks _we're_ exasperating."

They waited patiently until she returned, practically tearing down the stairs, crumpled piece of parchment in hand and looking quite triumphant.

"Oh dear." Harry could see where this was going.

"It's one of the pages I took from Snape's library," she explained, panting, "I thought I saw it somewhere before!"

She presented the crumpled page to Harry and Ron. It contained one of the animated woodcut pictures with the boy mouthing 'And Balder's pile of the glowing sun.' This, however, wasn't what caught their attention.

Beneath the picture were paragraphs of instructions, and with an incredulous "Heh!" from Ron, they realised what the instructions were for.

"Bit of a coincidence," Ron was still sceptical. Hermione brushed off his comment with a small shake of her head and snatched back the parchment.

"Okay, it says…although I think it started on the last page, 'The Opdieatrum spell is considerably dangerous if performed on a conscious individual. While powerful, it is not forceful, and the recipient is usually reluctant to comply. This can therefore lead to violent retaliation towards the caster, resulting in catastrophic consequences. For information on Bartholemew the Bewildered, who did not heed such a warning, see page 472.'" The passage continued to explain exactly how to cast the Opdieatrum spell.

"Well that's all well and good," Ron spoke up, "But what does this spell actually _do_?"

"That must have been on the other page," Harry shrugged, "Hermione, you could maybe go back to Snape's library and find the rest."

Hermione shook her head, "That would take too much time. Dumbledore explicitly stated that we should perform this as soon as possible."

"So…we just waltz into the hospital wing and perform this on him?" Ron was sceptical. They had been told of Professor Snape's condition, although McGonagall's explanation that he was merely 'ill' had been obvious enough before she announced it. "There's no way Pomfrey would let us near him. There's no way _he'd_ let us near him."

"No of course not," Harry could see Hermione's mind already working at full speed, "but this states that the recipient cannot be conscious when it's performed."

"What? We knock him out?" Ron smiled at the idea, but he hadn't actually meant it.

"If he's as ill as it seems, a simple _Dormio _should do the trick," Harry suggested.

"Oh, you're not actually serious?" Ron sounded suspiciously like he was whining.

"Look," Hermione faced Ron, "Dumbledore has asked us to do something, something which I think is probably very important, or he wouldn't have sent us a secret letter. He's never asked anything of us before. We owe him this."

"Well if this is so important," Ron still wasn't convinced, "Why did he write to us? Why not to McGonagall? Or any one of the other teachers?"

Hermione huffed. "You don't want to do this? Fine. You can go down to breakfast then. Harry and I will be off to the Hospital Wing. Won't we, Harry?"

"Ah…"

"Whoa, hold on! I didn't say I didn't want to come. I just reckon we should be a bit careful, that's all."

Hermione smiled, "Fine. But come on. We should do this before breakfast ends and someone notices we're missing."

llllllll

The hospital wing was quiet. Strangely enough, no one had fallen off their broom in a game of Quidditch, been victim to a nasty hex or caught any sort of disease warranting a stay with Madam Pomfrey recently. Of this, Harry, Ron and Hermione were grateful. However, it did mean that it was rather impossible to pretend to be visiting a friend, so the trio made do with moving into the room as quickly and as quietly as possible. Under the invisibility cloak.

Hermione had reasoned that Madam Pomfrey would never allow them to visit their Potion's Professor, and Snape would be even more reluctant to see them, so the quickest and most obvious way was to sneak in via the cloak.

"Right," Ron had said, "Kamikaze style."

Their entrance into the wing had been painfully slow, as Ron had to crouch very low so their feet would not be seen. Once inside, they spied the only bed in the whole room that was shielded by curtains. They began to make their way towards it, though froze as Madam Pomfrey strode out from behind the curtain and into her office, looking a tad grim.

Releasing their breath simultaneously, they moved towards the curtain. Making sure Madam Pomfrey was not going to be coming back immediately, Hermione reached from under the cloak and pushed the curtain to the side. As she did so, however, the cloak began to slip from Ron's head. He gave a start, trying to keep it upon him, but it was too late. As Hermione moved past the curtain and Ron tried to keep up, it fell completely from his head.

Finally realising what was happening, Harry and Hermione froze along with Ron. They were standing next to the bed with Ron in full view of the Potion's Master! Ron stared at his Professor in horror as he realised he was staring straight at him. Thoughts of detentions and punishments flew through his mind and he quickly tried to come up with some sort of legitimate excuse for being there.

"I…I…" but Hermione had pulled the cloak off herself and touched Ron's arm to silence him.

"I don't think he can hear you, Ron." Ron looked at her, confused, then back at Snape.

"I think she's right," Harry leaned closer to their Professor, "he looks completely...not there."

Ron realised they were right. Although Snape was staring straight at him, his eyes were glazed and unseeing.

"Bloody hell," he whispered.

Hermione was the first to recover. "Okay, let's do this before Madam Pomfrey realises we're here." Snape looked rather unconscious, but to make sure, she muttered a soft _dormio_ with her wand pointing at his temple. "Ron, get on the other side of the bed."

Ron complied, wanting to get this over and done with as quickly as possible. It was not his favourite pastime, going around casting unknown spells on vicious teachers.

"Okay," Hermione said, steadying herself, "We know what to do...I just hope I got the pronunciation right…"

Each raised their wand; however, they did not point it directly at the Professor. Instead, they touched their tips together horizontally, and where the points met, they held directly over Snape's head.

"Hermione," Ron stated, before gulping and taking a deep breath "I have complete faith in you," and then they began.

Hermione nodded, and the three began to speek in unison, a low chant so as not to alert the mediwitch. They had practiced somewhat in the common room, the strange and halting verse that not even Hermione had been able to decipher. "_Op-die-atrum ont-wik-kel ann ons__ ." _They repeated it again, and again, but nothing happened.

Ron stopped, thinking that they were saying it wrong, but Hermione hissed at him, "Keep going!"

So they did, repeating the chant over and over, falling into a steady rhythm.

Harry's wand began pulsing in his hand. So did Ron and Hermione's. Encouraged, they continued chanting.

"_Op-die-atrum ont-wik-kel ann ons__! Op-die-atrum ont-wik-kel ann ons!__"_

From the corner of his eye, Harry spotted a house elf. A detached part of his brain realised that it must have snuck beneath the curtains, and why hadn't they thought of the silencing charm, but he was too caught up in his casting to pay it any more heed. As long as it didn't warn Pomfrey of what they were doing before they could complete it, he didn't really care.

"_Op-die-atrum –"_ Suddenly, their wands simultaneously emitted a sort of blue energy that Harry thought looked remarkably like electricity arcs. They continued chanting. The arcs grew in intensity, and their wands began to vibrate harder, making them difficult to hold onto.

**"_Ont-wik-kel ann _****_ons_**_!"_ Suddenly, the arcs grew to such intensity, that Harry thought he was about to pass out from the force of it.

Madam Pomfrey thrust aside the curtain just as a great arc of energy shot out from the trio's touching wand tips and straight into her patient's head.

Severus' eyes bulged and his back arched, and before Poppy could react, a great explosion of light radiated from the wand tips, stunning everything in the immediate vicinity.

Then all was quiet. Poppy was quite shocked to find herself laying on the floor many metres from the bed. She struggled to stand, and moved quickly to reef aside the curtains. What she saw took her breath away.

Severus still lay on the bed, motionless and silent as had been usual for some hours now. What was shocking was the three other figures.

Harry, Ron and Hermione lay completely unconscious, sprawled on the ground around the bed.

* * *

AN: The spell was designed ages ago, so I can't be exactly sure what its roots are, but it certainly is based heavily on one of the languages in Africa...

Review pretty please!


	15. Chapter 14: Erebus

AN: Woot for reviews! Thanks guys!

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Erebus

Harry moaned. He thought that his head hurt, then realised what a gross understatement that was. He blinked when he reasoned it would be safe and relatively painless to do so, and realised it was dark. He tried to think back to what had caused him so much pain. He had been with Ron and Hermione, and they had been in the hospital wing. But why?

Suddenly, all the memories came back to him. They had been performing the Opdieatrum spell. So this is what they call 'violent retaliation', he mused.

He heard a slight groan beside him and turned his head to look at the figure that was also lying on the ground. As it was so dark, he couldn't really make out who it was.

"Bloody hell," he heard a soft moan from the form beside him. Must be Ron, then.

"Ron?" Ow. That rather hurt.

"árry?" Ron's voice sounded parched. "What 'appened?"

"I think Professor Snape somewhat 'violently retaliated'."

"Bloody hell," Ron iterated again, "My head feels like it's been hit with three bludgers consecutively."

"More like ten," another voice joined their conversation; Hermione. "And when did you learn the word 'consecutively'?"

Harry had enough energy to smile slightly, then decided that attempting to sit up would be a better use of energy. Succeeding without inflicting too much agony upon himself, he tried to take stock of his surroundings.

"Why is it so dark in here?"

It was only then that Harry realised the strangeness of their situation. Not that current events weren't strange in themselves, but Harry realised that if they had indeed been 'attacked' in the hospital wing (although it was really their fault in the first place), then it was a fair assumption to make that they should be in one of the beds right now. He had noticed Madam Pomfrey only seconds before a massive wave of energy had knocked them unconscious. Surely Poppy would have not left them lying on the floor in darkness?

Unless she had also been knocked out. This thought, however, was erased from his mind as quickly as it entered. If they were still in the hospital wing, why was the floor cold, damp and very rough?

"More importantly, where _is_ here?" Ron had sat up also and his question mirrored Harry's thoughts.

"Accio wand!" Hermione intoned. She was rewarded by the sound of wood skittling along the floor and felt the shaft fall into her hand. "Oh good. Lumos."

A soft glow of light radiated from the tip of her wand. Harry and Ron followed suit and it was immediately confirmed that they were certainly _not_ in the hospital wing anymore.

"Well, at least we have our wands," Ron mentioned while looking around. They were in what seemed like a huge, stone room. So huge, in fact, that they could see neither the walls nor the ceiling. Only the cold stone floor could be seen, stretching beyond what their light could touch.

They heard another small moan and whipped around. Pointing their wands towards the source of the noise, they spied…a house elf! It lay on its stomach, apparently just coming to.

"Goodness!" Hermione moved towards it and helped it to sit. The house elf shook his head, apparently trying to clear it. "Are you alright?"

The house elf looked at her and rolled its eyes in a way very uncharacteristic for a house elf.

"You _could _have been a bit more careful."

Hermione was taken back, "Oh, I'm sorry…I was just trying to help you up-"

The house elf brushed her off. "Not that! The spell, you twit!"

Hermione became even more shocked and Ron suppressed a snicker. It was about time some house elf proved to Hermione that they were not all kind, loving and naive creatures. Speaking of which…

"Hey!" Ron stepped forward, "Do you know where we are?"

The house elf looked at him and gave a wry smile. "Well if you don't know, I'm not going to tell you," it said in a sing-song voice.

Ron took back his internal snickering at Hermoine. What an arrogant so and so.

"Oh, come on," it got to its feet, albeit unsteadily, "Where's your sense of discovery? I'd bet three intelligent youths like yourself can figure it out!" The elf sounded decidedly sycophantic.

"What are you talking about?" Ron was now ready to sock it on the head.

"Well at least tell us your name," Hermione had recovered from her initial shock.

"My name? Hm…call me Dinky."

"Dinky?" Hermione seemed shocked. "Then it was you who told Neville the first part of the prophecy!"

"Well, you're quick, aren't you?" Dinky looked at her through half closed eyes, and took on a stance very unusual for a house elf, arms crossed and leaning on one hip. "Suppose I can tell you, though, since you're here. Yes, it was me. Technically, I'm not supposed to help, but I consider it more of a…nudge in the right direction."

"What exactly do you mean?" Harry was becoming rather uneasy.

The house elf sighed. "Honestly, I'd rather not have to spell it out to you."

Hermione suddenly realised something, "You…you're not actually a house elf, are you?"

Dinky smiled, "I've said it once, I'll say it again. You're quick."

"Then what…" then Hermione gasped, "You're a Demon!" Harry and Ron jumped.

"Now, now, what brought you to that conclusion?" Dinky had a smile on his face.

Hermione looked at Ron and Harry who were looking at the house elf like they were ready to defend an attack.

"It wasn't a coincidence that Professor Snape taught us about Demon's Rue potion," she almost slapped her head as she realised how blind she had been, "He was trying to warn us. About you. You caused him to become ill. You…" and then she realised something of even greater consequence, "YOU MANIPULATED ME!" She shrieked as it hit her. "You wanted us to find the prophecy and solve it! I hadn't done one assignment since I discovered that first damned picture! I ripped a page from one of Snape's books!" She was nearing hysterical, "I should have known! So it's true then! If the gate to Ifurin is opened, all the demons will be let free to destroy our world!"

She had anticipated many reactions from the house elf, but a genuine burst of laughter wasn't exactly what she was expecting.

"Okay, I take it back," he said, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes "Perhaps you're not that bright after all. Still, the answer eluded even me for a while. No, _Miss Granger_, I did not manipulate you, but it is clear someone did. Someone wanted you to find the prophecy. And to tell you the truth, it didn't particularly worry me. As for Severus, I didn't cause him to become ill either."

"Then who did?" She shot, still shaken.

Dinky looked uncomfortable. "Well, I don't know his name, but I can think up a few…Terminator, Bringer of Disaster, Rex…any one would suit, I think."

Hermione looked incredulous.

"So…you _are_ a Demon, then?" Ron ventured a part in the conversation.

Dinky looked annoyed, "Demon!" he spat, "I am an _Ifacaucin!_ A Jinn, to be exact. I was the one to convince…ok, coerce, Severus to teach you about Demon's Rue. Not that it'll do you much good now." He looked around the vast room.

"So where _are _we?" Harry interjected, still holding his wand threateningly.

Dinky sighed, then grinned, "Perhaps _he_ will know." The house elf pointed to an area beyond what their light would reach.

Cautiously, Ron, Hermione and Harry made their way in that direction, wands still held alert. They did not have to go very far before they spied an unmistakable form.

He was sitting on the floor, his back to them, with his knees pulled to his chest. There was no mistaking the long, black, greasy hair as Professor Snape's. He did not seem to react to the light that the trio brought near him.

"Professor Snape?" Hermione questioned tentatively, walking slowly towards his form. He did not react. She looked at Ron and Harry, who looked rather uneasy.

She moved around to his side and knelt down. His chin was resting on his knees and a thick curtain of black hair covered his face.

"Professor?" She tried again. Still, he did not stir.

Slowly, she reached and pulled his hair from one side of his face. She was prepared, and rather hoped, for him to stare at her with loathing for annoying him, bite out some acerbic comment and take away house points. She was dismayed to find him staring blankly at the floor with an expression of utter hopelessness upon his face.

Harry and Ron moved to his front and knelt down also.

"Professor?" Harry tried his tone a little more sharply than Hermione's. He then grasped the Professor's shoulders and shook him slightly. "Snape!"

This seemed to have some effect, and Severus looked up slowly to meet Harry's gaze. He looked at him in frank curiosity, an expression that Harry had never seen on the face of the dreaded Potion Master before.

It then took all of Harry's self control not to move away as Severus reached up towards Harry's face.

Harry started as Snape's long, thin and freezing cold fingers touched his cheeks. With Harry's movement, Snape also flinched away and curled himself into a tighter ball.

Dinky came sauntering up to them.

"Hm. Doesn't seem to be very…himself at the moment, does he?"

Harry looked up accusingly. "You did this to him!"

The house elf snorted. "Like you would care. But I've already told you, it wasn't me. Wish it was, though. It would have been rather exciting."

"What?"

Before the elf could answer, they heard a low rumbling noise, like thunder off in the distance. The rumble, however, did not die down, but rose steadily until it became almost deafening and reverberated through the massive room. The trio looked around in alarm.

"Dinky! What is that?" Harry yelled over the noise.

Dinky began to look decidedly uncomfortable. "Looks like he's found us…it may be a good idea to make like a muggle-"

"WHAT?" Ron didn't think he had heard correctly over the crescendo of noise.

"I said RUN!" Dinky's words were punctuated with a gigantic CRACK and Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up in terror. An enormous, giant-like apparition tore through the walls, which until now none had been able to see, sending debris reigning down upon them. The figure was huge, larger than what Grawp, Hagrid's half brother, and twice as grotesque. More than that, though, it seemed to be made of…stone? They began to run.

"Wait!" Screamed Hermione, "What about Snape?"

Harry and Ron looked back at the Professor. He was lying on his side, curled into a ball with his hands clenched over his ears.

With a barely suppressed "Damn!" they hauled him off the floor between them and began to follow Dinky who was leading the charge away from the terrible beast behind them. They ran as fast as they could with a non-compliant Professor to support…

…straight into a wall.

"Bloody Hell!" Dinky exclaimed, "You'd think he would have built a door _somewhere_!" They ran parallel to the wall, searching for an exit.

The beast above them was coming close, ripping apart more of the stone wall and ceiling as if it were tissue paper.

"How do we get out?" Hermione screamed as they came across nothing but solid rock.

"I can't carry him!" Ron roared over the din as Snape began to slip from his grasp. A large piece of rock landed square on his shoulder which dislodged the Professor from his hold altogether, and all three of them fell to the floor.

Struggling to get up, Harry thought he was hallucinating as his gaze met that of…Buckbeak! Blinking to be sure that he wasn't imagining things, he quickly realised that it wasn't Buckbeak at all, but it certainly was a Hippogriff.

Stone rained around and on them as Harry began to bow to the Hippogriff, realising that it was probably their only chance out of the gigantic room. He almost fell backwards as a booming voice filled his head.

"ARE YOU AN IDIOT? WHAT IN TARTARUS ARE YOU DOING? GET ON!"

Without really thinking, he motioned for Hermione to get on and he was surprised at how quickly she complied. He and Ron hauled the Potion Master's limp body onto the Hippogriff's back while Hermione helped from above. Then Ron and Harry mounted the creature themselves, though weren't able to seat themselves properly before it took off. The result was a rather unceremonious heap of bodies clinging as best they could to the Hippogriff's back, while they flew…straight for the beast!

Hermione let out a piercing scream as the beast swung a gargantuan arm in their direction. The Hippogriff dodged wildly. It was not particularly graceful, but it did the job. Hermione almost lost her grip on Snape as they were buffeted by the air movement and flying debris.

The Hippogriff flew around the beast who took a few seconds to turn around. These seconds, however, were all they needed to shoot through the opening in the wall created by the massive creature and out of its reach. The creature let out a deafening roar.

Outside the enormous room, the Hippogriff swerved through tunnels, left ways, right ways, upwards, downwards. To Harry's shock, he realised that the tunnels were arranged as a kind of maze, and it seemed to him as if the Hippogriff was choosing random turns.

Eventually, the sound of the beast behind them faded into the distance, replaced by the distressed moans of Snape (and Ron) and the other's heavy breathing. The Hippogriff slowed to a halt.

No one said anything for a while, they were all catching their breath.

"Okay," a voice in their heads spoke, "You can get off me now!" Harry was only partially shocked to realised the Hippogriff was speaking directly into his mind. After everything that had happened in the past five minuets, he reasoned that anything was possible.

Wearily complying, he heard another voice, this one outside of his mind.

"Oh, yuck!" Hermione moaned, "That's disgusting!"

"What?" Ron jumped off the Hippogriff. Hermione had been the only one seated properly, but Harry and Ron had slung Snape in front of her, practically in her lap, and he lay on his stomach, legs over one side, head over the other. He was still moaning and breathing rapidly.

"He threw up!" she shrieked, "And it's all over my leg!"

* * *

:) Poor Hermione. I've been in that situation while first-aiding. Think of it as catharsis. P

Please review!


	16. Chapter 15: Oh, The Cleverness of You

A/N: Apologies for the extremely late update. Things are happening, as they do...

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Oh, The Cleverness of You

Ron and Harry made noises of disgust as they pulled Snape down from the back of the Hippogriff. Hermione gingerly clamoured off as well, immediately took out her wand and with a quick 'Evanesco' was free from the vomit that had been running down her right leg. She then turned her attention to other matters.

"Ron! You're bleeding!" Ron looked at the shoulder Hermione had pointed to. He hadn't previously noticed, but there was certainly a laceration on his shoulder, although there was more blood than what he would have expected as the wound did not feel too deep or large. In fact, they had all sustained minor cuts and bruises from the rain of stone.

"Oh, yeah. Bugger." He was breathing too heavily to say more, then reconsidered and added, "It's fine," to brush her off.

She then turned to look at Snape. Ron and Harry had positioned him on his side on the floor. He was visibly shaking and looked very ill.

Ron and Harry stood. "What do we do now?" Ron was still staring at the Professor, trying to comprehend exactly what he was seeing.

Hermione thought for a second. Feeling almost disgust at what she was about to do, she took a deep breath and knelt down next to the distressed Potion's Master.

"Professor?" she questioned softly, though didn't really expect a reply. True to her expectations, he did not make any indication that he heard her, but continued to tremble and cry out in torment.

She raised her hand slowly and brought it down to rest against his forehead. Fully aware that Harry and Ron were watching with both interest and probably revulsion, she began to stroke his hair in a gentle, motherly fashion.

"Shhh," she comforted, "It's okay now, you're safe. It's alright, it's over."

Ron looked at Harry with disgust plainly written on his face. Harry, for his part, didn't like it any more than Ron, but they couldn't very well have a blubbering Professor around when they were going to try and find a way out of here…wherever here was.

Snape's cries settled to a soft whimpering and finally to nothingness as he fell, once again, into the mindless stupor they had found him in.

Hermione stood up and fought the urge to wipe her hand on her robe, so damp with sweat was the Professor's hair. She looked Ron straight in the face.

"What!"

"Look," Harry interrupted the not-yet-begun exchange between the two. "Our main priority at the moment is to find a way out of here."

"Okay," Ron turned towards him, and stated dryly "Why don't you ask the talking Hippogriff?"

Harry was about to answer back when he noticed that the 'talking Hippogriff' was nowhere to be seen.

"Hey! Where'd it,-" which is when he noticed that in its place, not initially noticeable due to the darkness, stood a young girl of about seven or eight. She wore a plain, Edwardian-style dress and her blonde hair bobbed around her face in curls. Harry changed the content of his question. "Where'd you come from?"

The girl rolled her eyes. "Puh-lease, don't tell me you haven't figured it out yet!"

"You're Dinky!" Hermione cried. The girl gave her a look.

"Do I _look_ like a Dinky to you? I should think not! My name is Ann. Aha'niheshka, to be exact, but one syllable is so much more preferable than five."

"Hang on!" Hermione looked at the girl closely, "You were the Hippogriff too then."

"Quick off the mark you are. Heavy too." The girl arched her back a little and made a face.

"So you can become anything, then?" Ron questioned.

The girl smiled and looked rather proud of herself, "That's right. Hippogriff, Blast-ended Skrewt, Man, Woman…not much difference except for a minor discrepancy in cognitive ability."

Harry and Ron missed the insult. Hermione got it instantly and gave the girl…no, Demon, an evil glare.

"Look," Harry stepped forwards, "Can you tell us how to get out of here?"

Hermione stepped in, "Wait! Harry, no! She…_it_ can't be trusted! It's a Demon. Demons try to lead you astray. It'll probably get us lost…or killed!"

"Come off it, Hermione. If she wanted us killed, she'd have left us to that _thing_ back there. And as for getting lost, I don't think we knew where we were in the first place. Do you?"

Hermione huffed, but had nothing to say.

The girl smirked. "So, you want to get out of here? Well, first thing's first. Find out where _here_ is."

A small pause, then, "Well?" from Harry.

"What? You expect me to tell you? I think not! Let brainiack over there figure it out." The small girl gestured to Hermione who frowned.

"Look, I don't know how you can expect _me _to know where we are. I haven't got a clue! It's not like I was given an instruction booklet!"

"Really?" The small girl asked innocently, a light smile playing on her face.

"Yes, really! I-" Hermione halted. Oh.

She looked incredulously at the girl, then pulled a piece of parchment out from a pocket. Scanning through its contents, she muttered, "I don't believe it. It worked."

"What worked?" Ron was too impatient to wait patiently for an explanation this time.

Hermione handed over the parchment, and Ron and Harry saw that it contained the prophecy…or poem they had collected over the past few days.

"The spell that Dumbledore wanted us to cast. I originally thought that Snape fought it somehow, and that's why we were all knocked out. But I was wrong. It worked. And now we're here."

Ron shook his head, "Here _where_, Hermione?"

She pointed to the last line of the prophecy.

"We're in Erebus."

llllllllll

Erebus, literally translated, means darkness. As a place, it was the ancient Greek's gloomy cavern underground through which the Shades had to walk in their passage to Hades. A valley in the shadow of death, if you will.

But there is an alternate definition of Erebus. Rarely used, and for good reason, it describes the internal structure of an anoetic mind. Anoesis describes the condition of being conscious with sensation, but without thought. Get it?

Bit of a misnomer, though, if you ask me. I'm sure Snape was thinking something…though as I watch his glazed eyes and spit dribble down his chin, I'm thinking that perhaps I'm wrong.

"Where in WHAT!" The red head was getting a little freaked out about the idea.

"We're in Snape's mind, it's the only explanation." The girl with the bushy hair was trying to describe their predicament the best she could, but with not much background knowledge on the subject, was finding it a little difficult. "Look, I know it seems odd, but I have read about it. The spell Dumbledore gave us must have been like Legilimens, except instead of just being able to see into one's mind, we've actually gone into it!"

"Not that I'm trying to prove you wrong or anything," the red head was still obviously not convinced, "but this doesn't exactly _look_ like Snape's mind." He softly kicked the wall.

"Well of course not!" I had to speak up; this was getting tedious. The little girl's cherub face I had adorned looked up at them. (I consciously chose to appear as the girl because I have learnt that no matter what I actually _am_, appearances always make a subconscious impact.) "A mind doesn't actually _look_ like anything. Eyes are for the outside world. Thing is, you're so used to the outside world, that _inside_ a mind, metaphorical comparisons take on a reality similar to the one that you're used to."

Two of them stared at me blankly. Guess who.

I kept trying. "It's so you can relate and interact with everything around you. See these walls? There the only things left from Snape's mind. They're mental barriers, actually, one's that he's created himself many years ago."

The boy with dark hair's face became a picture of realisation. "You mean, these are the actual barriers he uses for Occlumency?"

I nodded, "Come in here any normal time, and this area would be teeming with memories. Traps too, if you're not careful."

"Where are these memories now?" The boy in the glasses asked.

"Oh, they were stolen. By our buddy Rex…or Terminator…you still haven't decided on a name."

"What do you mean, stolen?" Boy these kids ask a lot of questions.

"You know, it's like taking a memory from your head and placing it into a pensive. Except you can't access them…not when they're stolen."

"Well how does he get them back?" the girl asked and I must say I was a little shocked. Her primary concern seemed to be to restore Severus' memories instead of getting themselves out of this mess ASAP. If I was in her position, I know where my priorities would lie.

"Back? Ha! You can't get them back! They've probably been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" The girl looked rather alarmed, "You mean he'll be like this forever?" She gestured towards the pathetic heap lying at her feet.

I shrugged. "Probably. It's not really of my concern any more. I tried to protect him, just like Dumbledore commanded me to, but he never told me about any Efreet."

The girl looked appalled, though I wasn't sure whether it was because of the knowledge that we had been attacked by an Efreet, or that Dumbledore had illegally summoned a Jinn.

It turned out to be both.

"Dumbledore summoned you?" She exclaimed. Again, her priorities surprised me.

"Sure, Albus summons me all the time." Well, that was a bit of an exaggeration. Actually, this was only the second time he had summoned me, but I felt like riling the girl a little.

"And that thing was an _Efreet!_" The others looked confused, but I was glad this girl seemed rather nervous. At least she had some idea of what we were up against. "It's the most powerful Demon…sorry, Ifacaucin that there is!" she explained to them.

I made the cute little girl's head nod solemnly.

"So why are_ you_ here?" The boy with glasses asked warily, "You didn't cast the spell."

I blew a sort of raspberry. "I didn't need to. I got in the way of _your_ stupid spell; clumsy magic, that was." The girl looked rather affronted.

She didn't reply, however, as there was once again the low rumble. They all looked around, alarmed.

"Extinguish your lights!" I hissed. After a few moments hesitation, they each murmured 'Nox', and the whole place was enveloped in darkness. Not a thing could be seen.

"Don't move," I hissed, "Don't make a sound!" I guess they complied, as I heard nothing afterwards, only the steady rumbling beyond.

The rumbling became a little louder, and as it did, a soft whimpering could be heard, coming from the direction of the floor. Four guesses who it was coming from.

Then there was a gentle 'whoosh' of material, and a few seconds later, silence once more.

The rumbling finally moved on, and everyone breathed a sigh of relief.

"Okay," I said, "It's gone." For now.

They relit their wands and I immediately realised what the 'whooshing' noise had been. The bushy-haired girl was once again kneeling by Snape, one hand smoothing his hair, the other holding his shoulder.

Compassion is revolting, I tell you.

"What is it looking for? What does it want?" She demanded. Now, contrary to popular belief, just because Ifacaucins can enter your mind does not mean that they know everything.

"Beats me." I shrugged. "Looks like it already has everything it could possibly take. But it seems like it's trying to find us, which is why it's a good idea that we stay unfindable."

Miss Know-it-all stood and took the parchment from the red head that she had previously given him. She studied it again.

"Okay, so if we're in Snape's mind and Snape's mind is Erebus, then this is the beginning of our journey. 'Accept this charge unquestioned, which Begins at Erebus'. And our 'charge' is to maintain a balance…of some kind. But hang on! If Snape's empty mind is really the Erebus stated here, then Ifurin's gate must be here also…which doesn't make sense."

"Hang on a second," The dark-haired boy looked thoughtful, "in his letter Dumbledore said to 'find the key'. Perhaps this 'key' is for the gate, and that's what's in Severus' mind."

"Assuming that's correct, what do we do now?" the girl asked. All three of them turned to me. Bloody hell. "You've been in here before, right?"

"Yeeees…" I had admittedly never been in his head in _this_ particular way before. For the Opdieatrum spell to work, the person had to either be entirely willing, or practically catatonic, so it's quite rare.

"So where would this 'key' be?"

I rolled my eyes, "Look, I've already told you, there's nothing here! Nothing more than these walls, honeycombed throughout a practically infinite space. No key, no nothing. Well, maybe little bits of something, but certainly no key of any sort."

The girl shook her head. "Look, this key is probably what that Efreet's looking for, as it's still in Snape's mind, so the key must still be here, hidden somewhere. Ann, if someone wanted to hide something here, where's the best place?"

"Amongst all the other memories, of course, but there's hardly any left."

She shook her head again, "There must be _something_ substantial left in the whole of his mind!"

"Well…"

"Yes?"

"…There is the Forgotten…"

"The what?" All three of them exclaimed simultaneously.

"The Forgotten. Don't they teach you anything at school? It's where memories you don't need any more go to be destroyed."

"We'll go there, then," Miss know-it-all stated in a tone that ended all arguments before they began. "Ann can show us the way."

"Whoa! Wait just one second!" She obviously had no idea what she was walking into. "The Forgotten is a _very _dangerous place to be. _Very_ dangerous. It's full of deadly traps and all kinds of horrors. It _burns! _You definitely _don't_ want to go there. Awful, it is, really awful. And dangerous. Did I mention that? _Very_ dangerous."

"What? You're not…_afraid,_ are you?" Red-head took a step forward, towering over me something horrid. I immediately changed my appearance to look exactly like this mother, and eyed him severely.

He gulped and stepped back. So predictable.

Know-it-all stepped in front of him, clearly not unnerved.

"Look, we need to find this key, and chances are it's somewhere near this Forgotten. You can help us or not, we'll get there in the end. Dumbledore wouldn't have sent us if he didn't think we stood a chance."

At the mention of Dumbledore, I remembered Albus' words. 'If he or anyone else discovers who you are to follow his, or their, every instruction.' I supposed these three rated as 'anyone else', and they had certainly discovered who I was.

Damn!

Wait a minute.

I couldn't believe it! The nerve! The cleverness! I thought he was just being overly thorough, but the old coot had planned it all along. He knew we'd end up here; don't ask me how, but he knew.

Taking only a moment to consider how exactly my essence would be destroyed should I disobey Albus' command, I returned to the guise of the child and pouted in the cutest way I could. "Fine, I'll take you to the Forgotten, but once we're there you're on your own, got it?" I waited a couple of seconds to be sure they wouldn't change their minds.

They didn't.

"Follow me, then."

And they did.

* * *

Okay, so a lot of talking, but later they'll be doing a lot of other things...

As always, reviews are very, very welcome.


	17. Chapter 16: Four Humans and a Demon

A/N: Sorry for the horribly late post. Both my computer and I decided to become very sick so I just gave up on us both for a while. At least my computer seems to be doing fine now...but I'm still feeling sorry for myself...

* * *

**Previously...**

_Taking only a moment to consider how exactly my essence would be destroyed should I disobey Albus' command, I returned to the guise of the child and pouted in the cutest way I could. "Fine, I'll take you to the Forgotten, but once we're there you're on your own, got it?" I waited a couple of seconds to be sure they wouldn't change their minds. _

_They didn't. _

_"Follow me, then." _

_And they did._

Four Humans and a Demon

Minerva did not race into the Hospital wing. Racing is rather unbecoming for a deputy Headmistress, and especially for an Acting Headmistress, so she made do, instead, with moving very, very fast.

"Poppy?" She called out after walking into (certainly not bursting into) the Hospital wing.

Poppy emerged from a storeroom looking rather uneasy. "They're alright, Minerva," her voice was practiced firm, "Unconscious, but…alright."

"What happened?" she demanded, though the overriding concern in her tone was obvious. Poppy led her to the still forms of Harry, Ron and Hermione, and shook her head.

"To be completely honest, I do not know. I had left Severus' side to write a quick request to a healer I know at St Mungo's…I was not requesting a transfer," she added, noticing the look on Minerva's face, "Just some more advice. After a little while I heard an odd noise coming form the ward and went to investigate. It sounded like…chanting, coming form Severus' bed. When I pulled aside the curtain, however, there was a blinding flash of light and I was thrown backwards. When I recovered, I found them like this…" She gestured to the three youths lying completely unconscious on adjacent beds.

"You mean they were trying to perform some kind of…spell?" Minerva could hardly believe it. Perhaps from some of the other students, but not these three…and certainly not Hermione!…or perhaps, _especially_ from Hermione.

Poppy shook her head. "I don't know if it was them or not. All I know is what I saw. We cannot jump to conclusions. Perhaps they had merely come to visit and Severus performed some kind of wandless magic. He's certainly done that before…" She looked at Minerva, knowingly.

Minerva couldn't see Severus in his condition performing any type of magic, and it didn't explain the chanting, but she was grateful that Poppy was keeping an open mind and decided to afford her Gryffindors the same courtesy. "They can inform us themselves when they wake," she stated in a firm and confident voice, which almost worked to completely convince herself that such an event would inevitably occur in practically no time at all.

llllll

"We've already come this way," Harry informed everyone around him.

"We have not," retorted the little girl-Demon, looking rather cross. "You keep saying that, and you keep being _wrong_."

"How can you tell, anyway?" Ron looked around at the walls, floor and ceiling. Dark and nondescript, every metre looked exactly the same as the next.

"Because I can _feel_ it," Ann informed them.

The structure they were in was effectively a maze, but not only one that went left and right, but one that went up and down too.

"Bloody hell, he's heavy!" Ron exclaimed for about the tenth time. "Can't you carry him, Genie?"

"I'm not a Genie, you oaf! I am a Jinn!"

"Fine, whatever, Jinn. Why can't you carry him?"

Harry and Ron had discovered that the best way to carry a rather tall, catatonic Potions Master was to have one person at his head and the other at his legs, pointing forwards. They were then able to shuffle forwards along the vast corridor while Hermione walked in front of them, lighting the corridor with her wand. Still, it was not easy.

"Because," the little girl informed them, "I flew you out of that cavernous room and my back still hurts. Stop complaining, you only have to carry his weight. I had to carry all four of you!"

Snape _was_ on the thin side, but anything around six foot is going to be heavy…cumbersome at least. They reached a set of stone steps going upwards.

"No, that's it!" Ron lowered Snape to the ground, and Harry thankfully complied. "Hermione, you're just going to have to do mobilicorpus. We can't carry him anymore. Especially not up and down stairs."

Hermione looked appalled. "Ron, no!" she exclaimed, "You saw what happened when we tried that!"

They certainly had tried, but even with _dormio_ in place, no sooner had Hermione got the man up into the air did he begin to writhe and shriek, practically blasting their ear-drums out.

"I don't care if he doesn't like it," Ron huffed, "Let him chuck a fit! The git's too heavy to cart around any longer!"

"Look, you may not care about that, but we can't very well have that creature finding us due to Snape screaming."

"Put a silencing spell on him, then."

"Ron!" She admonished, "I will _not_ subject him to that!"

"He's a grown man, he'll live!"

At that point both of their voices had grown so loud that Harry thought _they_ would be the cause of the Demon finding them. The little girl had taken up residence on the step, watching Ron and Hermione's exchange with mild curiosity.

"Ah…guys…" Harry was always wary of interrupting Ron and Hermione's…conversations. However, he felt the situation warranted such an act. Not that it helped any…

"I can't believe you're so thoughtless, Ron! He's not in any fit state at the moment to handle anything!"

"Who cares? Let him experience a few moments of discomfort. He does it to every student at Hogwarts, from the time they walk into the classroom to the time they leave…"

"You're being completely immature!"

"…And every chance he gets in between!"

"Guys…"

"And how am _I_ being immature? He's the one who's acting like a half-wit!"

"RON!"

At this point in time, there was a terrible wailing noise that overshadowed even Hermione's venomous reprimand to Ron. After a split second of shock, they realised that it was coming from Snape. He had curled himself up into a ball once more and had his hands clamped over his ears. He screamed again, an agonising cry of terror and pain.

Another shriek joined his; higher pitched and coming from somewhere they could not see.

They froze. Instantly they realised that the Demon had found them. In the next instant, they realised they were wrong. To Harry, Ron and Hermione's astonishment, a young boy came tearing down the corridor, wailing, just as Snape was, with his hands covering his ears. His young face was contorted in agony as he stumbled down the corridor.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped, but she could not be heard over the din of Snape and this child's cry.

The young boy tripped and fell to the ground, screaming even louder. Hermione made to run to him, but a cold hand on her elbow held her back.

The boy could not have been more than eight, with dark ebony hair and torn, dirty clothing. His face, what they could make of it, seemed almost grotesque with a nose even more crooked than Snape's and a horrible, sallow complexion. As he screamed in agony, another figure emerged from the darkness, tall and ominous, in distinctive muggle clothing, holding a belt in his hand. The man's hair was dishevelled and his face, haggard as it was, was also contorted into a familiar expression; one of extreme distaste. There was really no mistaking who he was.

He mouthed incoherent syllables to the boy at his feet, before picking him up by the back of the shirt. The boy's breath was taken from him, and Hermione realised that at that exact moment, Snape also seemed to have the air removed from his lungs rapidly. Both Snape and the boy's eyes grew wide in panic as the man threw the boy against the wall.

Hermione screamed and tried to pull herself from the firm grasp that was at her elbow, however, she found herself thrust back as the small girl, Ann, stepped forward. To Ron, Harry and Hermione's shock, she began to change. As the man before them spoke in harsh, incomprehensible syllables to the boy writhing beneath his grasp, her dress quickly shrank back into her body and dissolved into scales along her skin. Her body grew with alarming speed and began to deform until she was the terrible form of a fully-grown Norwegian Ridgeback dragon.

The dragon turned towards the boy and the man, took a deep breath and shot a mass of brilliant flame towards the pair. The trio averted their heads as the light emitted burned their faces and into their retinas. Hermione had managed to place herself between the flame and Snape's head, shielding his face, which had resumed its agonising wail.

Then, just as suddenly as it had begun, it stopped. The intense heat dissipated and the wailing ceased. Hermione pulled herself away from the Professor and was shocked to find that his hands were clasped tightly to her robes. They were also shaking and she noticed that his eyes were still wide and fearful. Tears ran down his cheeks.

Hermione pulled his vice-grip from her robes and turned to stare at where the small boy and man had been. Ron and Harry were also staring at the place where they had stood. There was nothing left.

Nothing that is, except for a very pleased looking Norwegian Ridgeback. It turned to the trio and…smiled? It quickly resumed its form as young Ann.

"Whew," she breathed, "Glad we got rid of that one. But we better get out of here fast. No doubt Mr Terminator heard its rather vocal display."

"Alright," Ron croaked with a bewildered look on his face, "You win, we'll carry him."

Ron and Harry wasted no time in lifting the Potion's Master off the floor and carrying him up the stairs. They moved silently through the labyrinth for a while before they had to put him down again in a small alcove.

Harry, Ron and Hermione continued to look at the little girl in shocked silence. Harry finally found his voice.

"Wh…what was that?"

"A memory," the girl stated matter-of-factly.

"I thought you said there was nothing left in here," Harry remembered back to their previous conversation.

"Well, nothing of _consequence_, just small, random memories."

"So that was…" Ron swallowed, "That _was_ Snape when he was younger? And that was his father?"

The little girl nodded. Hermione let out a strangled sob, letting a few tears fall down her cheeks. The girl continued.

"That particular memory was probably remembered because you two," she pointed to Ron and Hermione, "Were yelling at each other. That's usually how that kind of thing began, with the parents fighting, then it escalated. Your argument triggered this particular memory."

Hermione's sob's grew in intensity, but she smothered it quickly. Ron looked decidedly guilty, but tried to cover that also.

Snape had calmed somewhat, and they had sat him down, propped up against the alcove wall.

"But Snape…the young one…he looked even…uglier than he does now. Don't tell me his looks improved as he got older!"

"No," Hermione said quietly, "That was his memory of himself. How he perceives himself as a child. As they say, there is no reality, there is only perception."

"Well why couldn't we understand what he was saying…Snape's father, that is?" Harry asked, thinking back to the man spurting incomprehensible syllables. It didn't sound like another language, more like random gibberish.

"Well, our Terrific Friend has stolen this one's ability to understand language, hasn't he?" Ann pointed out.

Hermione looked at her Professor. She had never thought that she would see him so helpless.

"He's lost everything, hasn't he?" She spoke with dejection and complete understanding. "Even things that are fundamental to daily life. I mean, he might remember random memories here or there, like what we just saw, but he'd have no understanding of them, nothing to tie them to…except maybe fear…and pain."

The little girl sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Yes, yes, poor thing and all that, but look. You're in here for a reason. You want to get to the Forgotten, fine, I'll lead you there, but I'm not going to be waiting around all day for you to finish pitying your Potion's Master." She took a few steps from the alcove, then turned to face them again. "And if you don't want to carry him, see if you can teach him how to walk."

"That'll take forever!" Ron pointed out crossly.

"Actually," the small girl seemed to do a wonderful impression of Hermione in her first year, "That's not entirely correct. You see, once you remember something…anything really, then forget it, it's always easier to relearn it. It's like the mind has become accustomed to having that memory stored, so when it's reintroduced after Forgetting, it's easier to store and build on."

Ron was doubtful, but decided that giving it a go had to be easier than carrying the git around the labyrinth for who knew how long. Harry was thinking the same thing, so the two of them hauled the man to his feet…and he promptly fell back down.

"Bloody hell, at this rate he'll be walking by the age of sixty."

"Try again?" Harry suggested. They did. This time he was able to support himself for a few seconds before collapsing again onto the floor.

Ron sighed. "I take it back. He'll be able to walk by the time he's Dumbledore's age."

Hermione had been studying the Professor's face as Harry and Ron had hauled him to his feet and was able to catch the subtle expressions they did not. Initially there was a hint of…not quite fear…more apprehension when they had pulled him to his feet. Falling back down again, she caught a slight look of…disappointment maybe. Then when they pulled him to his feet for a second time his face moulded into a determined stare, then when he fell down once more, the disappointment was entirely evident. It was also probably increased by the tone in Ron's voice.

"Try again," Hermione instructed.

"Hermione, he's not-"

"Try it again!"

They complied. "Keep him balanced," she instructed, and they kept their grasp on his arms to steady his swaying form.

She noted his expression, which remained in its determined stare at the ground, but she also noticed some apprehension as well.

"That's it," she kept her tone soft and encouraging, "Okay, that's right, that's fine. See? You're doing well."

Ron looked at her, "You sound like you're talking to a one year old."

She gave him a sharp look, then continued her soft murmuring. Ron didn't make another comment.

To their surprise, Snape managed to remain standing, albeit unsteadily.

"Bloody hell," Ron commented, but it was with a tone of astonishment.

The small girl had begun to show signs of apprehension herself, "Now, I hate to put a dampener on this remarkable little achievement of a fully grown man standing on his own, but we really need to be going now." Hermione noticed the uneasiness in her voice.

"Okay, Ron, Harry, maybe if you support him under the arms he may be able to walk a little."

Ron shook his head in disdain but said nothing. Instead, they each took an arm of Snape's and slung it over their shoulder. Ron had to bend a little since he was quite a bit taller than Harry.

"You know," Ron murmured to Harry, "I _really_ don't feel very comfortable being this close to the git."

Harry chuckled and nodded, "I think we'll have to have a loooong wash when this is all over." They snickered and Hermione tsked.

"Shut up, you two, this is not helping. It's okay, Professor, we're just trying to help you along…" She added, noticing how he cringed at Ron and Harry's tone.

"Hermione! You sound like you're talking to a puppy dog!"

"Well, it's not as if he's more cognisant than one," the little girl – Demon - joined into the conversation, a smile playing around her lips. Hermione didn't know whether to say 'Exactly' or to wallop her over the head. She chose neither.

"Look, just…move forward slowly and see if he'll follow," she ordered.

They did, very slowly. After he over-balanced, he extended a leg in front of him, placing it on the ground to keep him from falling.

Hermione broke into a smile. "Excellent!" She beamed.

Ron and Harry continued their slow movement forwards and every time Snape was about to overbalance, he managed to place another leg in front of him, albeit not exactly in the correct position, but in front nonetheless.

"Well," Harry observed, "You couldn't exactly call it walking, but at least he has the sense to put a foot down when he's about to fall."

"He's gripping me too tight!" Ron complained. Indeed, Harry also felt a vice-grip upon his shoulder.

"He's just scared," Hermione noticed Snape's clenched jaw and his determined stare still aimed at the ground. "Keep going, he'll calm down soon enough."

Ron was ever so surprised when he realised Hermione was right. They made their way slowly through the corridors, only carrying Snape when they went up or down stairs, and they found that he finally relaxed a little.

The little girl who was leading them was becoming more apprehensive with every step they were taking, looking around more frequently and slowing their pace to a painfully slow crawl.

She turned left into a passageway, which was as nondescript as the rest, and they came upon the first door they had seen.

The small girl breathed a sigh of relief. "This," she turned to inform them, "is the outskirts of the secondary layer of memories."

"Secondary layer?" Ron raised an eyebrow.

The girl screwed up her face in concentration. Then it brightened.

"Think of the mind as an onion."

"An onion?" Harry raised his eyebrows, "Not a cake, or anything?"

The small girl narrowed her eyes at him. "No, not a cake. I've seen that movie, and it is ridiculous."

Harry tried to hide a smile at Ron's deeply confused look.

"A mind is like an onion," she continued, "because-"

"It has layers." Harry and Hermione spoke at once dryly.

The girl gave them a look.

"There are many layers, more than usual if you're skilled in Occlumency. The outer layer houses memories that were recently made or remembered. Like the one we saw back there. The second layer will have contained more…long term memories, and so on and so forth until you come to the very centre. The core of the mind."

"The Forgotten? Hermione asked.

"Exactly."

"Okay, then, let's go." But as Hermione began to reach out to open the door, the girl visibly cringed. "What?"

"Nothing. Just remembering what happened last time I was in that particular layer…."

"Well we can't stand around here all day," said Ron, reaching out himself for the door handle, "Carting this git around is a task I want to get rid of as soon as possible."

And he swung the door open.

* * *

Another A/N: It's harder than I realised to keep continuity, especially when I keep changing my mind about things, so if you pick anything up, please let me know!


	18. Chapter 17: Doppelganger

A/N: Really sorry for the incredibly late update...

* * *

**Previously…**

"_Okay, then, let's go." But as Hermione began to reach out to open the door, the girl visibly cringed. "What?"_

"_Well, just as a warning, each layer you enter becomes harder and harder to get through. We just made it through the first layer, but this second layer is going to be…a little less easy."_

"_Well we can't stand around here all day," said Ron, reaching out himself for the door handle, "'A little less easy', is something we can handle. Carting this git around is a task I want to get rid of as soon as possible."_

_He swung the door open._

Doppelganger

'Boldly going forwards because we cannot find reverse.'

Or, 'We are just too brave and stupid (these two terms are interchangeable, really. I mean, if you're scared of something it's probably for a pretty good reason) to turn back now.'

Either one would make a good bumper sticker for any of these three knuckleheads, when you think about it.

And I was thinking about it.

They stepped over the threshold to the second layer. I cringed and held my breath.

One second passed. Then two. Then three. Nothing happened.

I let out a breath. Last time I had tried to access the second layer through this access, there had been some pretty severe repercussions. Well, not for me, but for the imp I was accompanying.

"You coming?" The red-head swivelled from his position under Severus' arm to look at me. I strode through the door.

They were surprised by the carpeting, I think. Well, to be perfectly honest, so was I. When I usually fish around in a human's head it's not as if the layers take on a corporeal appearance. They just…are.

Now though, as these humans were here and I had been dragged along via the same spell, everything was very real looking. In a physical sense, you know.

"It looks like some kind of…private library," the know-it-all observed.

True, I suppose. The room we had entered was not very large, perhaps the size of the Gryffindor common room, if you want something to compare it to. It contained deep red carpet, many bookshelves, void of any books, and only one chair in the centre of the room. There was also an old fireplace in one wall, which currently held no fire.

"Do you think this could be another memory?" the boy with glasses asked, taking in the surroundings.

I rapped on the bookshelves. The noise reverberated through the room.

"Nope. We can pass through memories. They are just energy, besides."

A frosty wind suddenly blew through the room. Strange when you consider it had no windows. Not strange when you consider we were gallivanting around inside a mind.

At the wind's influence, it seemed, Severus looked up. As he did, the fireplace burst into flames. (The wood, that is, _in_ the fireplace burst into flame. Not the whole fireplace. Just checking. Humans can be so _dense_.)

The three children jumped. After a pause, "Do you think…_he_ did that?" She was obviously referring to Severus.

The other two shrugged.

"Maybe we should keep going," the red-head suggested. It was the most intelligent thing I had heard him say yet.

He and the one in glasses moved forwards, expecting Severus to follow as he had been doing before. However, Snape suddenly bent his legs, lowering his centre of gravity, making any more forward movement quite impossible.

Red-head muttered some kind of cuss and tried to haul him to his feet again. Severus kept resisting.

"Maybe he needs a rest," was the suggestion put forward by Know-it-all, and with a glance at one another, the other two let him go to fall, rather hard, onto the floor.

Snape pulled his legs up to his chest, stared hard at the ground and began rocking back and forth ever-so slightly. The two boys took the opportunity to look around this 'library', not that there was much to see, and I Shanghaied the only chair in the middle of the room.

Know-it-all stood in front of Snape, probably trying to decided if she should try to comfort him or not. I say not, but then again, that's just me. And the rest of the sane population.

A few moments passed, and I think that she was about to make up her mind, but before she could either walk away or kneel beside him, the sound of footsteps broke the relative silence.

Everyone froze. (Everyone cognisant, that is.) The footsteps sounded like whoever they belonged to was walking slowly and deliberately, along a wooden floor that amplified the ominous noise of every step.

The three of them looked at me. I shrugged.

"Where's it coming from?" Red-head asked softly. Good question, but I did not tell him so. There were three doors in this room. The one we had come from and two others. The sound of the footsteps echoed around the whole room, making it quite impossible to tell where they were coming from.

The sound stopped, but then there was another one, far more ominous, if you ask me. It was the sound of a handle being turned.

They turned sharply as the door directly in front of the one we had come through opened, and Know-it-all let out a small gasp.

It was…

"Snape?" The boy with glasses asked incredulously. It was indeed. The boy snapped his head around to take in the Snape sitting on the floor, then at the dead-ringer who was standing in the doorway.

It was immediately obvious that the latter was far more with it. He seemed to look around, take in the scene before him, then gave a kind of…smile, although I must say that I could have been mistaken…I had never seen a smile on his grown face in the first place.

No one really knew what to make of this new addition. Everyone just stared at him and he just stared at them.

"Profess-" no sooner had Know-it-all opened her big mouth, did the Professor in the doorway whip out his wand and cast a violent hex towards her. It was only lucky that yours truly managed to intercept it with a shield at the last second. What am I saying? It wasn't luck. It was skill.

She squealed and ran. I did the same. Only without the squeal. Obviously.

The other two dived as another hex flew towards them. The dark haired boy pulled down a heavy bookshelf between himself, the red-head and our new arrival.

Know-it-all had managed to make it somewhere near the other door, but I couldn't exactly make out where due to the thick, purple smoke now filling the room.

"Hermione! Run!" Glasses guy yelled out as the second Professor began to stalk towards them.

I managed to turn into a fly without being noticed, and flew upwards towards the roof. Here, I could survey everything that was going on below rather nicely, even with the heavy, purple fog.

Know-it-all tried to open the door, but found it was stuck. Or locked. Either way she couldn't get through it. Figures.

Glasses guy and Red-head shot some pretty mundane hexes over the upturned bookshelf; 'Expeliarmus', 'Petrificus Totalis', that sort of thing. Each was deflected and retaliated by the approaching figure.

Know-it-all realised that the doppelganger was going for the other two, so shot off some pretty nice hexes herself. One hit this new Snape straight in the back. He stopped, turned towards her, stared for a couple of seconds, then resumed his hunt for the others.

"Harry! Ron!" She screamed, "It's no use, spells won't work against him! Get back into the first layer!"

Red-head yelled back, "What about you?"

"I'll get Snape and meet you there!"

Now, one has to credit this one's thinking, even a powerful and intelligent Jinn such as myself. Although, on second thoughts, I didn't know whether to credit her thinking towards intelligence, or mindless compassion. Either way, saving our catatonic Severus was a good idea. Albus' orders or not.

Ron and Harry had let off a series of detonation hexes at the impostor and used his moment of inconvenience to scoot backwards and level another bookshelf, this one closer to the door we had entered the room from. Know-it-all made a mad dash to where they had left Snape, though as the purple smoke was diminishing, she quickly realised he wasn't there anymore.

Searching frantically, she spotted him near a wall furthest from Harry and Ron (Ohw! When did I start using their names!? Drat…). The impostor was striding closer to the two boys taking refuge behind a bookshelf. They let off a few more hexes and scrambled back towards another one closer to the door. Just as it was falling, the impostor's hex struck Ron's left hand.

"AHHH!" he screamed, as it seared through him.

Hermione (Well if I"m using the other's names I might as well use hers too) had managed to get to Snape, who was cowering against a far wall.

"Come on, Professor!" she screamed over the din, "We have to move, NOW!" She grabbed his robes and wrenched him upwards. He clung to her tightly, which I supposed helped him steady himself to at least make a fair effort of walking.

Harry had begun to take on a different approach of attacking the impostor. He had started to yell 'Serpensortia!' over and over, and there was a fair few snakes all making their way towards the other Snape. Ron had followed suit, although his serpents seemed to be conjured with a little less enthusiasm…or confidence. I was sure I saw a two-headed snake there somewhere, one head at each end.

Harry then hissed as loud as he could from behind the bookshelf in Parseltongue…Parseltongue! Well, that's a shock. Anyway, a stream of serpents made their way towards the impostor and began biting at his ankles and calves. Surprisingly, this managed to slow him down…a little.

Hermione and Snape were making their way towards Ron and Harry, I suppose she was counting on not being spotted on account of the snakes.

Almost halfway there, Snape stumbled, pulling Hermione down as well. She stood as quickly as possible, but it was too late. The impostor had caught sight of them.

"Hermione!" Harry yelled in panic as he saw the other Snape's attention diverted. He tried a few more hexes, but they did nothing to distract him from Hermione and Snape, who were practically sitting ducks out in the open.

The impostor raised his wand, and even with the multitude of snakes gnawing at his ankles, he shot out an intense, golden beam of light towards the struggling two.

There was an immense explosion and burning white light filled the room.

Snape gave an almighty roar of pain. Then all was silent.

* * *

Pretty please review! :) Next chapter should be up soon...ish.


	19. Chapter 18: Strategic Manoeuvres

A/N: I'm going away for a while, so I thought I'd post a few chapters. Since I'm actually leaving tomorrow morning and have left this to the last moment, it's not as polished as I would like it to be, but it's up. Woot. Enjoy!

* * *

Strategic Manoeuvres

He was moving forward again, he realised. It was not the most comfortable position to be in. Sitting down was by far preferable. But they seemed to insist and so he complied. Because it was quite impossible not to.

He kept his head down, looking at the floor below him and watching as his feet moved, one in front of the other. Left. Right. Left. Right. Quite ingenious. He would have never figured that out himself.

Sometimes he heard strange noises. They occurred when one of the creatures next to him opened and closed their mouths and made strange shapes with them. He had seen that happen before. Where or when he did not know, but the movement of the mouths and the sounds that occurred at the same time were familiar somehow.

Perhaps the mouths were making the noise. It was possible.

Sometimes they made not very nice noises. They scratched against his ears. He did not like them.

Sometimes they made soft noises. He liked these noises much better.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

Each time his foot fell it made a pleasant, clicking noise against the floor.

His legs began to feel unpleasant, and everything slowly became heavier. But he liked the clicking, so he continued.

Left. Right. Left. Right.

At some point they stopped. Stopping was good, because things became lighter. But it was not good because the clicking stopped too.

Then there was cold. He did not like the cold, and thought how good it would be if it were not so. Then it became not so.

He began to move forwards again, but he knew his legs were too heavy for that to be a pleasant idea. He did not wish to move forwards again.

He was suddenly on the ground. Good.

But it was not good for long. He missed the clicking, and the momentum. Sitting still no longer held any pleasure. Perhaps he should try to move forward again. A few seconds later, he realised he did not know how to begin such a motion.

He moved his upper body forward, but it did not continue so. He moved it back. Then forwards again. Then back. It was rather comforting.

Forward. Back. Forward. Back.

The rhythm was soothing. So he continued.

Then he heard the clicking again, and felt very pleased.

Click. Forward. Click. Back.

A very loud noise pierced through his ears. He did not like that.

Forward. Back. It did not bring back the clicking.

There were more loud noises. They were not nice.

He moved very hard forwards and found that he was able to keep going. There was no clicking, but perhaps if he kept moving, the clicking would come back.

He kept moving as well as he could, with his hands as well as his legs, away from the loud noises. He came upon something solid. A wall. There was no more moving forwards.

The loud noises continued. He did not like them at all. Bad things always happened when there were loud noises. Very bad things.

After more loud noises, which he didn't like, a warm body pressed against him. It grabbed at him and tried to make him stand. He thought that if he could stand, the clicking would come back and the loud noises would stop.

He stood, and moved forwards, but there was no clicking. And still loud noises.

Suddenly, he realised that something was about to hurt him. It was hot and bright and golden. He did not want it to hurt him.

So it didn't.

But it was still very bright.

Then it was not. And the loud noises were gone. And he was pleased.

Back. Forward. Back. Forward.

The rhythm was soothing. So he continued.

Ron opened his eyes slowly, aware of his once-again throbbing head. This pain, however, took backseat to the one he was feeling in his hand. Now that his adrenaline had died down, he felt the sharp, burning sensation all too well.

"Aahrgh!" he moaned, clutching his left hand to his chest.

"Ron! Are you okay?" The voice was Harry's, and he was leaning over Ron in worry.

"Yeah," he said through gritted teeth, "I think so." In truth, he didn't feel so. It almost felt as if he had stuck his hand into boiling acid.

"Let me take a look," Harry tried to grab a hold of his arm.

Ron winced and pulled back.

"No! Where's Hermione? What happened?"

"Snape's what happened," Hermione said, bringing herself into Ron's line of vision.

"Hermione!" Ron's eyes lit up, "But you…he…"

"I know, I thought so too, but…I don't exactly know what happened, but when that other Snape released that curse towards us, I think Snape somehow set up a shield between us and it. When the curse hit the shield, it caused…this…" she gestured around the room.

Ron sat up, a movement his head let him know it detested. Looking around the room, he was shocked. The place was a mess. Not that there was much in there to begin with, but almost everything that was in it was destroyed. The bookshelves were splintered and charred, especially the ones that were closest to Snape and Hermione when the explosion occurred, and smoke was still continuing to rise from the charred remains. The burnt corpses of snakes were strewn around the room.

"It was extremely lucky that we were behind that bookshelf," Harry informed him. He looked at it. While the side towards the room was charred black with the blast, the side that they had been on was relatively unscathed.

"Yeah," Ron commented quietly, still in pain, "Bloody lucky."

"Come on," Harry instructed, "We'd better keep moving, in case that Efreet thing heard that."

"What?" Ron looked at him in confusion, "I thought that was the Efreet. You know, in a disguise or something."

"I don't think so," Hermione said thoughtfully, "If it was the Efreet, we'd probably be dead by now."

Ron's consideration of this point was cut short as Snape had crawled towards Harry and Ron. He stopped in front of Ron and stared at him. Ron stared back, still with his left hand clutched against his chest. Then, Snape did something so unexpected, it took Ron a moment to react to it. Snape grabbed Ron's left arm, just above the wrist and pulled it towards him.

"Hey!" Ron yelped, trying to take his injured hand back, but Snape's grip held firm. He stared at Ron's wounded hand for a second, then grabbed it as tight as he could with his other hand.

Ron let out a pain filled howl. Harry and Hermione leapt from their positions and simultaneously tried to pry the Potion Master's hand from Ron's, but his grip was too strong, and they were afraid they would injure Ron's hand even more.

"Professor? Professor!" Hermione tried to reach him logically, "Don't do that! You're hurting him! Professor!"

Harry was less polite. "Let him go!" he yelled forcefully, resorting to pounding at the man's arms to let Ron's hand loose.

Finally, Ron was able to pull his hand free, and he automatically moved away from Snape. The other's grabbed the man and held him back from following.

"Bloody hell!" Ron cussed, "What the HELL do you think you're…" He looked at his injured hand, "…BLOODY HELL!"

The last curse was let out, not from his anger towards Snape, but to his enormous astonishment. He held up his hand in front of his face. Then the other one to make sure he wasn't mistaking one for the other, but there was no doubt about it. His hand was completely healed.

Harry and Hermione stared at Ron's hand in amazement. Then they stared at Snape, who looked all the world as if nothing had just happened.

No one said anything. No one, that is, until they heard a silky smooth voice from behind the bookshelf.

"Hm. I heard that could happen, although this is my first personal observation of it."

They all started towards the figure looming over them. Snape!

They all made to whip out their wands, but the Snape standing in front of them held up his hands and chuckled.

"Calm down, you nut-heads, I'm just having a bit of fun!"

The chuckling Snape dissolved into the familiar appearance of Dinky, who hopped on top of the overturned bookshelf.

"You…!" Ron was ready to yell at the house elf, but Hermione was quicker. Or just more assertive.

"What do you mean 'heard that could happen'? Heard what could happen?"

The elf pointed towards Ron's hand. "That. Snape can heal your wounds easily because…dum da da duum! This is his head we're in. And because he set up that sentry in the first place."

"Sentry?" Hermione asked, "So that wasn't the Efreet, then."

Ron butt in, "Efreet or not, where were you? We could have used you back there, you know. Do you always do that when the heat's on? Hide?!"

"Hide!" the house elf looked terribly affronted, "I do not _hide_! I strategically manoeuvre! There's a difference."

"Whatever," Harry interrupted Ron's next comment, "So it was a sentry?"

"Hehe!" Dinky jumped from one foot to another, apparently enjoying himself, "Yep, yep, yep. One of Snape's Occlumency techniques. Why we Jinn are so good at invading minds is that we can slip past these little…obstacles."

"You hide," Ron said dryly.

"Which is sometimes the cleverest option," the elf bit back, "Not that you would know anything about being clever…"

"Hey!" Hermione interrupted, "Instead of wasting time insulting each other, can we please just get a move on? We don't have long."

The house elf hopped despondently off the bookshelf.

"Hang on! There's a time limit?" Harry looked at her, "I didn't see anything about that!"

"Well I don't know about you, but I'm beginning to feel rather hungry. We missed breakfast, you know, and unless you two had a midnight snack, no one has eaten since yesterday."

Ron and Harry looked slightly dejected. "Wish you hadn't mentioned that, Hermione," Ron told her, "Because up until now, I wasn't even thinking about food."

"Well, then, unless Snape has set up some kind of eatery in his mind, we'd better find this key and get out of here."

Just then, Ron had a thought he wished has not entered his mind. "Um…you don't suppose he'd have set up some chamber pots in here or something?"

"Hang on," Harry looked confused again, "We can't actually physically be in his mind, so our bodies are probably lying unconscious in the hospital wing. So why would we feel hungry…or have any sort of physical need."

The house elf turned back to them. "It's because you're used to these feelings. Just like you're used to walking as you are now. It's an illusion, really, that you're all part of simultaneously."

Ron didn't completely understand, and reasoned that not even Hermione had a complete grasp of what the house-elf was talking about, but figured that asking again would bring the situation into no clearer perspective.

"Whatever, let's just try and get the key and get out of here."

No one had any objections, so they followed the house-elf through the door.


	20. Chapter 19: Lollypops and Rainbows

Lollypops and Rainbows

The next room they entered was not so much a room as it was a cavern. All in all, the space was gigantic. No one could tell how big it was due to the fact that their combined lumos light was unable to reach the edges, although they could make out various pillars that stretched vertically into the darkness.

The trio and Jinn, who was still currently a house elf, surveyed the area warily, waiting for possible attacks. They were standing on a small platform about half-way up the wall of the cavern, which led to a narrow stone bridge that crossed through the middle of the cavern and possibly led to the other side. It was difficult to say, though, as the end disappeared into the darkness.

As they walked forward warily, they were able to make out some things attached to the pillars. Hermione's breath hitched while Harry and Ron stood with their mouths open. Instead of inanimate objects, as they had first expected, there were _people_ chained to the pillars. But not just any people, these looked like they were dead, beyond dead, and yet they still appeared to be moving, their emaciated, sinuous bodies writhing slowly under what appeared to be continual torment.

"Bloody hell," Ron breathed. "If this is what Snape's mind is like when it's empty, I don't think I'd like to see it when it's full."

"What are they?" Hermione maintained the almost reverent quietness.

"They," said Dinky in a purposely loud voice that startled the trio, "Are what we like to call the Drecchen. They're memories. Bad. Memories. The ones that can't be forgotten because they're too strong, too agonising that the Forgotten just spits them out again. Every human has them, they're the ones that you chain to place so you don't have to deal with them everyday, the kind that Dementors and Boggarts can see without even trying. The strong ones can get out, especially if provoked, and it takes them a while to get them chained back up again…"

"So these are all of Snape's bad memories," Ron said quietly while staring around at the apparently endless figures chained to the pillars in the middle of the cavern.

"Not just bad memories, terrible memories. The ones that mean you can't sleep at night, the ones that catch you unawares when you least expect it and try to wrench your heart out; quite impressive little buggers, actually. Just don't even think of casting any spells on them. They feed off all kinds of energy, especially negative."

"There's so many…" Hermione whispered, still staring.

Dinky let out an exaggerated sigh. "The boy goes and joins the Death Eaters and you expect his memories to be full of lollypops and rainbows? Honestly. Though while we're on the topic, I'd prefer a little sunlight. So if you don't mind, I'll be leaving here now." Dinky made his was towards the narrow bridge, ears flopping flamboyantly.

"Wait!" Hermione called, turning towards Snape who had once more taken up residence on the ground. He was staring with a strange expression at the grotesque creatures, almost as if the fear that perhaps should have been expressed was somehow stuck in his throat. Or perhaps as if the terror associated with such creatures now had no reference or context and he was therefore perhaps...confused. Whatever it was, Hermione didn't have time for it now. She tried to help him to stand but he would not budge.

"Oh, no, not now," Ron wailed as he noticed her futile efforts and joined in on trying to make him stand, but Snape stayed nicely planted to the floor.

Hermione tried her other tactic, "Come on now, Professor, it's time to get up." Snape pointedly ignored her and remained staring at the creatures.

"He'd have to be afraid of them," Harry said quietly, gesturing to the many gruesome bodies surrounding them.

They all considered Snape and realised he was trembling slightly, although they couldn't see his face as it was curtained with his hair.

"Well I don't particularly feel like going up and hugging them either," said Hermione in an exasperated voice, "But that doesn't mean that I'm going to sit around here all day."

Ron was surprised at her sudden change of heart and after overcoming his initial shock decided to rejoice this new, less-pampering Hermione with a reproaching "Yeah," to Harry.

Harry shrugged, knowing the faster they moved on, the sooner they would be away from such a depressing place. The cavern seemed to become more and more oppressive and he was looking forward to seeing the end of the bridge. He joined in trying to get Snape to stand, but no matter how hard they tried they weren't able to convince their Professor that being on the move was infinitely better than the current situation.

Just as Hermione was about to suggest they carry him again, they heard a soft, echoing voice. The trio turned around and almost fell to the ground themselves. On the bridge, about ten metres from where they knelt, stood a tall, pale woman with lanky, jet black hair. Her face was pointed and not altogether pretty, but she wore a soft expression and there was no mistaking who she was.

She was singing a slow, soft song that neither Harry nor Ron couldn't make out. Hermione, however, narrowed her eyes in recognition.

"_Lollay, lollay little child,_

_Why wepestou so sore"_

"Another memory?" Harry whispered.

"No." Hermione stated softly but with conviction, though she did not elaborate.

"_Nedes mostou wepe_

_It was iyarked thee yore"_

Snape slowly tore his gaze from the Drecchen and found the woman. She came steadily closer and continued to sing.

"_Ever to lib in sorrow_

_And sich and morne evere"_

Snape stared at the woman, his expression as equally unreadable as before. The woman finally reached him and knelt down, stroking his hair softly as she sang.

"_As thine eldren did er this_

_Whil hi alives were"_

She took him by the hand and stood; he followed easily. No one else spoke as she dropped his hand gently, turned her back and slowly began to make her way back over the bridge, still singing the low, hypnotic tune. He followed.

"_Lollay, lollay little child,_

_Child, lollay, lullow"_

"Bloody hell," Ron mouthed at the sight of his previously catatonic Professor taking his first steps on his own since they had entered this place.

When the trio realised that he was about to step out onto the narrow bridge, they hurried to him, anticipating a very long fall into the abyss below. Snape's footing, however, was sound, and he made his way along the bridge, albeit slowly, after the apparition of his mother. Harry followed after him, followed by Ron, then Hermione, all in single file, for the bridge was so narrow it couldn't possibly fit two abreast. Harry didn't want to startle the Professor by touching him, but kept his hands near his back should he loose balance.

They continued like this for a while, the only noise coming from the black-haired woman in front of them as she continued to sing the haunting melody. She kept just out of easy sight, blending with the shadows to become tantalising bait that Snape would follow, even though he didn't know why.

The trio behind him seemed just as mesmerised, although it may have been due to the fact that they were concentrating on watching their every step and consciously not looking beyond the bridge into the frightening chasm below.

The tones of the woman washed over them, providing a pull, of sorts, and they all began to relax –

-Until one of the Drecchen, being somewhat closer than the others, made a sudden convulsive movement towards the line of travellers. Snape flinched and halted his movements forwards. Harry grabbed his shoulders to make sure he would keep his balance, which he did.

The woman's voice died away as she turned to see what had happened. Turning back, she continued her singing, with a little more strength than before.

"_Into uncuth world_

_Icommen so ertou"_

Snape began moving forwards again, his steps slower and less certain, but forward nonetheless. As she passed, Hermione warily kept her gaze on the Drecchen that had startled them. As if sensing her attention, it convulsed again, and the woman in front, while continuing to sing, sped up ever so slightly.

They had not gone more than another five steps when it convulsed again, and this time, one arm broke free of the chains that bound it to the pillar.

Snape once again flinched, but didn't stop moving, as Harry held a light, though firm pressure at his back, willing him to keep moving. Hermione spun back to face where they were going, grasping for her wand. Her hand, however clutched air.

"My wand!" She cried in a strangled whisper. Harry and Ron reached for their own, but were also greeted with nothingness. How could all three wands go missing at the same time? They had little time to ponder, though, and just kept moving.

As if sensing the first Drecchen's resistance, others now had started convulsing violently against their bonds. Snape's breathing became panicked, but the woman's voice continued, stronger again against the rising noise that the Drecchen were making. Harry kept the pressure on Snape's back and grasped the fabric of his shirt in his hands to make sure he didn't stumble.

More and more of the creatures now seemed to awaken from their previous stupor and their crescendo was beginning to drown out the woman's singing. Snape's footing became unsure, and he slowed down dramatically, even with Harry trying to now push him forward.

"He won't move!" He said, fighting down panic, his own voice joining the growing din.

The woman sang even louder, but it only succeeded in moving Snape forwards one step before the initial Drecchen broke free from more of its bonds.

Snape stood stock still, breathing hard and moving his hands to cover his ears.

The woman turned around and rushed back to Snape, all gracefulness gone.

"Come on Severus," she coaxed, pulling on his hands, but he remained stuck to the spot. She tried a different tactic. "Ronald, dear," she said in a sing-song voice, "Do you know the children's song Beastlings in the Wood?"

Ron looked at her incredulously, then his expression turned to one of fear as there was a loud noise behind them and they turned to see that the first Drecchen was almost completely free of its bonds.

"Yeah, why?" he decided not to comment on how this was certainly not a time for reminiscing.

"Sing it," she said sharply, and before he could ask just how that was going to help the situation, she had turned her back on them, strode onwards and continued her original song.

After a few steps and an "I'm not hearing you sing it!" sung into her melody, Ron decided that he might as well give it a go.

"My mother said I never should," he began, his out-of tune voice grinding over the woman's sweet yet haunting melody, "Stray near the beastlings in the wood."

Severus shuddered and it seemed that after a moment's consideration, took a step forward again. Spurred on by this, Ron continued.

"For if I do with hat and sack, I can be sure I won't come back."

If anything, Snape seemed to become even more agitated, but he was moving forwards again.

"For in the woods the beasts they play, and this they do both night and day."

"_Lollay, lollay, little child…"_

A push and a pull. It wasn't much, but it was enough. His forward motion, however was accompanied by an increased agitation from the surrounding Drecchens. Suddenly, Hermione gave a cry as she noticed that the first creature had completely released its bonds and had managed to jump across to the bridge they were walking on.

Harry and Ron's eyes grew wide as they looked back and noticed what Hermione had seen. They turned back quickly, Harry pushing Snape's shoulders even harder while Ron's voice rose as if it would urge Snape to go faster. It did.

They were now almost at a run as more and more Drecchen began to loosen their bonds, and the first was closing in on them, its long, thin form hunched over, like that of a werewolf's posture.

"Make him move faster!" Hermione's panicked voice called from behind the others.

Harry and Ron did their best, although even as they did another couple of Drecchen leapt onto the bridge behind them.

Finally, they were able to see the end of the bridge; another platform like the one they had begun on. The woman was already standing on it beckoning them.

All in a panicked state now, they raced towards the platform as the howling and screeching became unbearable. A few steps away, Harry all but threw Snape onto the platform in front of them and he almost dived onto it himself. Ron came close behind, but just as the two looked back at Hermione, a cold, sinuous hand grabbed at her shoulder.

She didn't even have time to scream before the Drecchen threw her off balance and they both went tumbling into the abyss together.

"Noooooo!" Harry screamed, while Ron let out a resounding "HERMIONE!" Before either of them could do anything though, they felt themselves pulled back bodily through what seemed to be another door, and it had slammed shut before they could make another move.

"Hermione!" Ron gasped and flew to the closed door, trying to yank it open with his whole body weight. Harry joined in, but the door was jammed shut. The boys flung themselves around to confront the Demon, to tell it to _do_ something, but when they did, their voices caught in their throat.

The Demon was still in the form of Snape's mother, but unlike her previous nonchalant expression, her face was now a picture of fear. She was looking around rapidly and before either Harry or Ron could form a question, the ground began to shake.

And shake, and shake, building into a crescendo of earth-wracking tremors, threatening to throw them all of their feet. All, that was, except for Snape, who was already off his feet and on the floor looking as terrified as the apparition of his mother.

"WHAT'S GOING ON?" Harry yelled over the noise that had built up around them, but before anyone could answer, there was an ear-splitting CRACK, and suddenly the floor beneath them gave way.

The last thing Harry and Ron heard was a woman's voice that called out over the din.

"Efreet," it said.

And it was.

* * *

A/N: The song, as far as I remember, is from a 16th century poem in old English...I think. It's called Adult Lullaby and I think may have been something that Snape's mother might have sung - it's very depressing (at least I think it is). Seems to me to be about the perpetual life of sorrow man lives.

So...what do you think?


	21. Chapter 20: Into the Forgotten

Into the Forgotten

Harry accelerated as he fell, causing his stomach to lurch and his limbs to flail wildly. Without being able to see properly, the water took him by surprise and hit him like a brick wall, knocking away his breath. Underwater, his head began to pound as he fought his way to the surface, although at first he was unable to tell exactly which direction that was.

To his immense relief, his head broke the surface of the water and he sucked in deep breaths of air. Gaining his bearings, he realised that he wasn't in water at all, or at least, not like any water he had ever seen. Instead, the liquid was a rich gold that seemed to emanate a faint glow. He did not, however, wonder about this too long, as he realised that Ron had not yet surfaced.

"RON!" he yelled, trying to keep the gold liquid from his mouth. He looked around desperately. "RON!" His limbs were still moving to keep him afloat, but his shoes started to feel like dead weights. He kicked them off to keep himself from going under.

"RON!" He was starting to panic, and the strange liquid was starting to freak him out. He realised it didn't feel like water exactly, but was more like it was…he wasn't sure. Alive? The stuff seemed to not only surround him, but caress him, like a blind person would feel a face. It was as if it sensed him and it was trying to determine who he was.

But perhaps he was just imagining it. Harry ignored the sensation and instead decided to concentrate on his search. He grabbed for his wand to attempt to give himself gills like Semus had shown him last term, but remembered in dismay that it had disappeared in the cavern. Instead, he filled his lungs with air and dived under the surface. The liquid, luckily, was not too opaque, and he was able to look around. The liquid seemed to extend down to an immeasurable depth, becoming pitch black directly below.

Around him, he could see golden spheres of varying size. Some were so small they could fit into his hand, others were larger than he was. They seemed to be scattered everywhere, floating as if they all had their own densities that had nothing to do with their size. He tried moving them out of his way, searching for Ron. Perhaps Hermione had also fallen into this stuff. However, he could see no sign of either of them.

Harry surfaced and immediately gulped another breath of air before diving down again, continuing his desperate search. Finally, after the third breath, he spotted a figure about ten metres away and below him. He made the split second decision to continue to the figure without taking another breath and swam as hard as he could towards it. Some spheres floated in front of him, blocking his view of the figure, the identity of which he could not yet determine, and he pushed them out of the way with vehemence.

To his dismay, as he swam closer the figure seemed to be passively retreating into the depths of the pool, rotating as it went. As a head came into view, Harry realised that the figure was Snape. He was momentarily disappointed that it was neither Ron nor Hermione, but pressed on nonetheless. His lungs were burning and he was desperate to take a breath. Further, Snape kept drifting away from him. Somewhere in the back of Harry's mind, he realised that even if he was able to reach Snape, he wouldn't be able to make it back to the surface. Nevertheless, he kept swimming, down and down, the pain in his chest now extended throughout his whole body.

'Move!' he screamed to himself 'MOVE!'

Finally, he wasn't sure exactly how, his hand grasped Snape's hair, flowing away from his face like a perverse, black halo. He grabbed and pulled, rearranged his grasp to Snape's clothes and tried desperately to make his way to the surface, even though he knew it was useless.

Suddenly, he saw a flash of gold from below. It was another sphere, about the size of a bludger and it was moving upwards at an alarming rate. As it came close to Harry, he made a grab for it. To his utmost delight it fell neatly into his hand and he began rising with the sphere towards the surface.

They broke through the surface with so much force that Harry went flying almost completely out of the liquid and he let go of Snape. As he landed with a splash, he regained his bearings and grabbed for his Professor to make sure he would not go under again while gasping for air to fill his burning lungs. With the breaths he took, he was sure that he would crack a rib, but his breathing soon evened out. The sphere that had been their saviour had bounced a few times on the surface before innocuously floating away.

Harry held onto Snape who was still unconscious and, he was pretty sure, not breathing. He knew CPR from TV back home, but had no idea how to administer it while floating. It was all he could do to keep both of them above the surface. He started slapping his Professor's face, a part of him finding the action slightly amusing, the rest of him terrified.

"Professor," he breathed, still recovering, "Professor, wake up." He started to thump Snape's chest, thinking that perhaps he could expel the water that way. No. Not water. Liquid…stuff.

Harry once again realised the strange sensation of the liquid moving, almost like it was a sentient being, and not just sloshing about like water normally does. Then, to his surprise he noticed the same gold liquid beginning to flow from Snape's mouth, again, not like water, but with the consistency of runny gelatine. Harry watched in confusion, then began to beat on Snape's chest again.

Then, to Harry's continued shock, Snape took a hitched and what looked like quite a pained breath, but it was a breath nonetheless. Harry felt an enormous wave of relief. A few more breaths followed and Snape opened his eyes, looked at Harry and promptly fell unconscious again. This time, however, he was breathing.

Harry's relief was short-lived though, as he realised that Ron was probably somewhere in the depths below, and now it was impossible to save him. Hermione was probably gone too, but what happened if you died in here? Did that mean you just went back into your own head, or did it mean you could never return?

"RON!" He yelled into the cavernous space above him. "HERM- HERMIONE!" He was having a hard time holding onto Snape and keeping them both from going under the surface. Where were they? What on earth was he going to do now?

His thoughts were cut short, though, when he spied what looked like a boat of sorts coming towards him. The boat reminded him of the gondolas in Italy, with high ends both front and back, so he couldn't see at first if there was anyone inside. The boat began to turn, slowly and majestically, to reveal –

"Hermione!" Harry cried, relief filling him. Hermione smiled down at him.

"Are you alright, Harry?" He nodded.

"Take him," he spluttered, shoving Snape towards the boat, "Then we have to find Ron."

"Where is Ron, Harry?" Hermione asked, reaching for Snape.

"I don't know," Harry manoeuvred Snape and himself so that he'd be able to help shove Snape aboard, "He fell in here with me, but I haven't seen him. What do you think happens if you die in here?" He was still panting from his ordeal. He might not have almost physically died, but he certainly felt it. "How did you get here? What happened to you?"

"I'll tell you later, let's just get you two into this boat."

With much heaving and shoving, they finally managed to haul Snape, then Harry, into the small boat, even though it tipped precariously during the struggle.

"What do we do now?" Harry asked, manoeuvring an unconscious Snape into what he thought was a position a little more comfortable than having his neck folded under him at an odd angle.

"Well," said Hermione, drawing her wand, "I think we should have a look at these things." Harry looked down at Hermione's lap and noticed that it held a small glowing sphere. "I think that what we're looking for might be in one of these."

"You really think so?" Harry looked out over the sea of spheres that stretched as far as he could see. The horizon on all sides seemed to disappear into a thick fog, as did above him. He noticed several of the spheres bump lazily into their small boat as they rocked gently, a stark contrast to his frenzied moments earlier. "But there's so many of them."

"That doesn't matter," Hermione said, looking at Harry, "We have all the time in the world."

Harry looked at his friend. All the time in the world? Didn't Hermione earlier insist that they were running out of time? He shook his head.

"So how do we open it?" Hermione asked.

"Ah…what?" Harry was shaken out of his reverie.

"How do we open it?" Hermione persisted, looking at Harry expectantly.

"Uh…I…I don't know."

"You don't know?" Hermione surprised Harry by sounding surprised herself.

"Well…no, I don't. What makes you - " Harry stopped as something struck him. "Hermione," he looked at her in curiosity, "Where did you find your wand?"

"What?" Hermione looked at the wand in her hand.

"Where did you find your wand? We all lost ours coming into the second layer. With the Drecchen, remember?"

Hermione looked up. "Oh, yes, of course. I found it again. It was quite strange, actually. It was in this boat. But I'll tell you about that later. At the moment we need to figure out how to get into these spheres. Now think, Harry. Are you sure you don't remember how to get into them?"

Harry felt a shiver up his spine that had nothing to do with the fact that he was sopping wet.

"Well…actually, I do remember something…"

"Yes?" Hermione encouraged.

"You have to take it in your hand - "

"What?"

"Your hand," Harry insisted, "You have to pick it up."

Hermione eyed him. "Okay," she said, "Go on then."

Harry looked at her, and slowly took the sphere from her lap.

"Okay," she said after he had it in his hand, "Now what?"

"Oh, actually," Harry faltered, "I think it's Snape who has to hold it. Yes that's right."

He leaned over to pick Snape's hand up and place the sphere within it, but instead he lunged forward, grabbed Snape's robe and threw himself sideways. The boat rocked viciously as Hermione screamed. Harry somehow managed to hold onto Snape and sent them both overboard, albeit knocking themselves on the side of the boat rather hard. With a satisfying splash, at least according to Harry, they both landed in the surrounding liquid.

Harry then pulled Snape and himself away from the boat, not daring to look back until he knew they were far enough away. He then turned back to see Hermione, standing red faced and screaming at them from the boat.

In a split second decision Harry let go of Snape and swam as best he could back towards the boat. Once he neared it enough he tried to send as much liquid as possible into the vessel. Hermione's scream was inhuman and turned into a piercing screech as her figure transformed into a spine-tailed swift and flew away from the liquid onslaught.

Harry's satisfaction was cut bluntly short as he realised he had ditched his Professor. Spinning around he was relieved to see a splashing figure only a few metres away from him, but their troubles weren't over.

The swift had now taken form as a very large and very pissed-off dragon.

* * *

A/N: I really have to go to sleep now, so I apologise for all my mistakes in advance. Also, I just realised that there may be some (a lot of) inconsistencies with American/British spelling because I'm using different computers to write different chapters and my one that has 'English (US)' on it likes to do all of the thinking for me and change things around like making all my 's'es 'z's without asking my opinion. If it had asked my opinion, I would have told it to bugger off and leave me to my 's'es and superfluous 'u's.

Anyway, I'll update as soon as I get back...


	22. Chapter 21: Efreet

A/N: Oh my, well if anyone is at all remotely interested, I've actually been back for a while now, but many things have happened. Good things, in fact very good things, but I'm still very sorry for leaving it this long to post another chapter. I hate it when I'm reading a fic and it just leaves off in the middle. I promise I will finish this!

Also, thank you so much to people who have reviewed! I have a habit of not writing back to people, but please don't take it personally. It takes five text messages, three emails and one phone call for me to reply to my best friend and it's only because I simply...forget... But now she's figured that out and sends all the texts and emails at the same time, then rings me and tells me to read them. Ahhhh...I love my best friend...

Anyways...enjoy!

* * *

Efreet

Harry had to act fast. The dragon that flapped ominously above his head wasted no time in orienting itself in Harry's direction and dived towards him. Harry had no idea how close the beast was as he swam furiously towards his gasping Professor. The moment he reached him Harry took a deep breath and plunged himself under the liquid's surface, dragging Snape along with him.

Moments later the surface above them turned into blinding light as the dragon sent a fury of flames towards them. Harry felt the immense heat they gave off and wouldn't have been surprised if the liquid around him started boiling. As soon as the fire vanished he had no choice but to resurface. His lungs had already taken a battering and were even now beginning to burn.

Gasping for air once again he tried to come up with a plan. Any plan. He decided to head for the boat they had just vacated because he reasoned that it was better than doing nothing. But the dragon had already turned and was heading back towards them. Harry took another deep breath and prepared himself to dive below the surface once again.

Another blow of heat, this time more immense than the first, assailed them from above. This time the flames lasted longer than before and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from inhaling the liquid in his body's desperate attempt for air.

Finally the flames abated and he pulled to the surface once again. He began to make for the boat but realised with slight shock that it was on fire. Perfect. Now what was he going to do?

The dragon came in for another attempt and Harry began to prepare himself for another dip below the surface, but to his immense surprise he spied something. Initially he thought he was seeing double but now he was sure, another dragon was heading towards them, directly behind the first. Harry didn't even have time to decide whether this was a good or bad thing, as moments later the second dragon collided bodily with the first, sending it flying over Harry's head and directly towards the glowing liquid. The first dragon turned in mid-air with astounding agility but was unable to escape unscathed as its wing tip skimmed the liquid, drawing from the dragon a hideous and deafening scream.

Preoccupied by the sight of a wailing dragon, Harry did not expect a pair of arms to encircle him. Even less did he expect a voice in his ear to yell, "Hold on Harry! Don't let him go!" He didn't even have time to identify the voice before he felt himself being lifted from the liquid and begin to move. Almost immediately his muscles began to protest as Snape's dead weight, that he had just managed to hang on to, hung from his arms. It took him a good five seconds to register what was going on.

"RON?" He roared over flapping wings and screaming dragon, "Is that you?" He attempted to turn his head to get a better look at whoever it was holding him.

"DON'T!" The voice yelled back, "I can't…hold you!" And sure enough, Harry felt himself slipping.

By now, they had picked up speed and were flying mere centimetres above the surface of the liquid, with Snape's feet sometimes skimming the surface. It was all Harry could do to hang on for dear life and hope that Ron…well, he supposed it was Ron, was doing the same.

The seconds stretched on and he thought he heard the first dragon pursuing them, but he had no way of knowing for sure with the blood rushing through his ears and gigantic wings flapping above. So he concentrated on hanging on as the liquid full of spheres rushed beneath them. It was when Harry felt himself slipping severely through the arms holding him and also felt Snape do the same that he spied something up ahead. It looked like…yes, it was. It was a waterfall…or…perhaps just a wall of water…or the liquid. Yes, that was it, the luminescent liquid was falling from a source he couldn't locate, creating a wall of liquid that stretched as far as he could see both up-ways and sideways.

"OKAY!" He heard a voice boom through his head, "HERE WE GOOOO!" And at that moment, Harry felt himself suddenly rise…and suddenly fall. He didn't have time to do anything before he whooshed through the wall and fell, once again, into the liquid. An almighty roar was heard from behind the wall of liquid.

Bodies collided and it took a few seconds for Harry to orient himself towards the surface, hoping that this would be for the last time. Breaking the surface and finding air, Harry was surprised but nevertheless overjoyed to see Ron staring back at him, also attempting to get his breath back.

"Ron!" Harry breathed, but Ron seemed to be having a hard time getting his breath. Moments later, though, he gave an almighty cough and Harry noticed something that looked like a fly whiz from Ron's mouth into the air.

After a few moments of chocking noises, Ron looked at the fly hovering above their heads and gave a groan of disgust, "Eugh!" He wailed.

The fly above them promptly took off, although judging by its flight path it didn't seem to be very healthy, zig-zagging through the air.

Harry then noticed that the fly was flying towards what looked like an island. Brilliant, Harry thought, dry land. Then another thought hit him.

"Where's Snape?" He exclaimed to Ron.

"Bugger."

Luckily, they found Snape floating, thankfully, on his back only a few metres away. Harry and Ron made their way as best they could dragging their Professor towards the small island, which ended up being a large, flat rock. They climbed onto it gratefully, lying on its surface and taking great gulping breaths.

"You know what?" Ron breathed, "He owes us. Big. Really big."

The fly Ron had swallowed slowly started to transform back into a familiar figure, and Harry and Ron slowly stood to greet it.

Ann lay on her back looking every bit as worn as Harry and Ron felt, and breathing just as hard. "_He_ owes _you_?" She said, incredulously, "I just flew down your throat! Your _throat!"_

"Yeah," said Ron. "I know." And he gave a cough of disgust, just for good measure.

"I don't think you realise just how close I came to death," Ann looked at them dramatically.

"You?" Harry looked at her incredulously, "I was the one being chased by what I can only guess was the Efreet. I was sitting right in front of it!"

Ann sat up and looked at Harry. "I'm sorry, but did you _see_ the reaction that Efreet had when its wing skimmed the Forgotten? It wasn't just angry, you know. That was some severe pain. Worse than you could ever imagine. Worse than your stupid pathetic cruciatus curse. And I just risked my entire essence to save your stupid pathetic backsides, and I don't even get a simple thank you!" Ann had become quite emotional and Harry and Ron could only look at each other, both looking slightly ashamed.

"Ahh…well," Ron started, "Thanks…I guess."

Ann immediately brightened up, stood up and brushed herself off.

"Good. Well, then. I suspect you'll have no more need of me then, so I'll just be off-"

"Wait just a second," Harry stepped forward, "What are we going to do now?"

"Well I don't know, do I? I said I'd get you here, and here you are. Actually you were here a while ago, but Red-head here made me save you from the Efreet, so I've done even more than I said I would. Ergo, I'm done. I'm going home. Good bye."

"But what about Hermione? Do you know where she is?"

Ann shrugged, "How should I know?"

"But what if you die in here?" Harry felt slightly like a broken record. "What happens to our body back in the Hospital Wing?" Harry made to reach for the Demon-girl, forgetting that he was still rather wet with the liquid. Ann jumped back in what appeared to be genuine horror.

Harry jolted back himself. "Oh, I'm…sorry. I didn't realise…"

Ann huffed and turned her back on them again. "This was not in my contract. Almost getting blasted by Snape's explosion in the Great Hall. Almost getting eaten alive by the most dangerous substance known to Ifacaucin. Having to get rammed down your throat. This is by far the worst Summons I have ever been on!" She whirled around and pointed her finger at Harry and Ron. "And I blame you two!"

Harry and Ron looked shocked, then offended. "Hey, it's not our fault!" Harry stepped towards her and Ann took another step back.

"I didn't say it was your fault," Ann spat, "I said I was going to blame you!" And she spun to turn her back on them again.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but realised he hadn't a clue what to say. He shook his head and looked at Ron, who shrugged, equally as confused. Then Harry stepped forward.

"Look, Aha'niheshka," He said in his best pronunciation, "We thank you sincerely for your…efforts to save our lives and ask, as a personal favour to us, that you continue to help us on our quest for…well…whatever it is we're here to find, since that without your help-"

"And bravery," Ann cut in.

"And bravery…"Harry continued, "And…strategic manoeuvrings, we would probably be dead now…whatever that may mean in here."

"Well," Ann seemed to consider his words, "I suppose that sounds reasonable." She turned back to them and gave a sly smile. "So, you say you met our friend?"

Harry decided to ignore Anne's extreme mood swings and proceeded to tell them both about the fake Hermione.

"I realised it wasn't her because she wasn't touching the sphere-thing with her hand. She wanted me to pick it up instead. But the thing was, she…I mean, it expected me to know how to open it. How would I know? And what are those things, anyway?"

"You don't know?" Ann looked a little shocked, "Why, they're memories, of course. Memories woven inside a cocoon that us Ifacaucins can't get through because they're made out of the material of the Forgotten. Your dear Professor must have trapped them when he realised the Efreet was rifling through his memories. Interesting, and quite ingenious actually. Here, they're safe…well…for a time."

"Hang on, you mean that all of Snape's memories are here…in this muck?" Ron took stock of the copious amounts of spheres floating around them.

"Looks like it," Ann looked on disinterestedly.

"So…that's a good thing, right?"

"For the moment," Ann shrugged, "But the spheres don't last forever. Eventually they will dissolve. The memories along with them."

Harry glanced at Snape, still lying on the ground looking like he was sleeping fitfully. "Okay, so, we have to get rid of this Efreet, then free all of Snape's memories before they dissolve. How do we do that?" He asked the Demon.

"Why am I supposed to have all the answers?" Ann huffed.

"Well, you're a little more familiar with this environment than us," Ron told her.

"I've already told you," Ann began to get a glimmer in her eye that quite suited her young visage and rather reminded Ron of Hermione, "I don't come here. Not to the Forgotten. It's downright stupid to come here."

"Well, it's obviously important enough for an Efreet to come here. And to find out what's in the spheres." Harry again surveyed the sea of bobbing orbs, wracking his brains to figure out what they were supposed to do next.

Ron reached over the edge of the platform they were on and scooped up a modest-sized orb, about the size of his head. He looked at it intently, running his fingers over its surface. "It's almost like the balls of wool Mum has at home, only made with a finer thread and solid. Almost like gold.

Suddenly, Ron whacked the orb onto the ground. The noise it made was similar to a large bell and resounded through the space they were in so much that Harry and Ron had to cover their ears in shock and they felt the vibrations through their chest.

"Right," Ron squeaked after the last of the noise had disappeared a few minutes later, "That's certainly not the way to do it."

Ann just looked at him, "Genius, this one."

"So the first thing we have to do is figure out how to get rid of the Efreet," Harry noted, "Otherwise we'd just be feeding him Snape's memories if we do figure out how to release them." Harry looked at Ann, "Surely you have some idea of how to do that."

Suddenly, their contemplation was interrupted by a low rumble.

"What's that?" Ron asked no one in particular. No one answered.

Harry looked around cautiously. The rumbling seemed to be getting louder. The rock platform they were standing on began to tremble. Ron noticed that Snape was falling towards the edge and hurried to haul him back. Suddenly, they heard an almighty yell that seemed to be coming from above them.

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" The noise became almost deafening.

"AAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHH!" Harry and Ron replied, clapping their hands to their ears.

Suddenly, a blur of…something – fell from above them at great speed and landed with a gigantic splash in the liquid perhaps ten metres from where they were standing. Harry and Ron stopped yelling long enough to see what would surface. For a few very long moments it seemed like nothing would. The liquid began to still, but neither could see anything beneath its surface. Then, the liquid began to move. It was not like it was being moved, but more like it was moving of its own volition. Then, just as they were beginning to think that nothing would ever surprise them ever again –

"NEVILLE!" Both boys yelled out as a very familiar, if very sorry looking visage came up from the liquid gasping for breath.

Neville's face spied Harry and Ron and went into a familiar looking expression of shock. All three of them were then even further startled when the liquid seemed to surround Neville and carry him gently to the rock's edge. Neville clamoured up onto the rock ledge looking disheveled and rather out of breath. Ann took a deliberate step backwards, away from his dripping form.

" Uh…" Neville took stock of his surroundings, "Hi."

* * *

A/N: I admit, Neville was never in my first concept for this story, but I've decided I love him and he needed to join in all the fun.

P.S. This whole new Fanfic site thing is freaking me out. I was only just getting used to the last one...


	23. Chapter 22: Unexpected Cavalry

A/N: Wow, look at that, another chapter in the same week. I'm steaming along now!

I've discovered I have a habit of putting a 'said such-and-such' in between dialogue sentences and don't know whether to follow it with a comma or full stop. So I've done both and hoped you didn't notice...

* * *

Unexpected Cavalry

Ever stop to think, and forget to start again? In this single foray into the mind of this senseless human, I had been chased by an Efreet, attacked by a virtual Severus, coaxed the real one passed a cavern of Drecchen, who aren't very amiable at the best of times, fallen almost to certain death, _rescued_ a human (not that I had wanted to) and came inches away from a fate worse than death in the form of a dragon. Not only are all such expeditions beneath a powerful being such as myself, they are ridiculous. Therefore, I took leave of my obviously superior reasoning and just went the hell along with it.

Besides, what else could possibly happen?

And so it came to pass that I was standing beside four dripping humans, two of which were awed by the appearance of the fourth. It was as if they had never seen a person fall from the sky before. Humans are severely lacking in life experience these days.

"Neville!" Harry obviously didn't know whether to whoop for joy or stare in aghast silence. He chose somewhere in between. "What…how…are you alright?"

"Uh…" Neville looked down at himself, "I…suppose so." He looked as if he knew he should be totally freaking out right now, as humans are wont to do, but had decided that weirder things had happened and that it probably wasn't worth it at the moment. Besides. He could always be dreaming…

"What happened? How did you get here?"

Neville looked at the three astonished faces staring back at him and took a few moments to realise that they actually expected him to know the answer. He opened his mouth to reply, but then shut it again as he realised that he didn't quite know. All he could remember was…oh. I felt his brain click into gear.

He took a deep breath. "Well…I should probably explain from the beginning…"

IIIIIIIIII

_Earlier that day…_

"Have you seen Hermione?" Neville found Ginny just outside the common room. Ginny shrugged.

"I haven't seen any of them since this morning. They said they were going to speak with Madam Pomfrey, why?"

Neville looked at the flask he was holding in his hand. "Just needed to ask her a question." He ran down the steps heading for the Hospital Wing. Maybe Hermione was still there.

Pushing open the big doors, he looked around cautiously. Madam Pomfrey was not one to allow random students to burst into her ward without a perfectly good reason. Finding Hermione could, technically, wait, but he was impatient and the question inside him burned in the pit of his stomach. He didn't know why, but he was sure it was important.

He did not see Hermione, or anyone else in the Hospital Wing. He did see a few beds down the end of the room that were shielded by curtains and he remembered vividly Snape's public display and thought that one of them was probably occupied by him. Nevertheless, Madam Pomfrey may be able to tell Neville where Hermione had gone. He had started to become a little chagrined with her disappearance. Not at her, of course, but at the fact that at this moment he really really needed to find her, and at this moment he really really couldn't.

He heard a noise coming from behind one of the curtains and a moment later Madam Pomfrey stepped out from one of the curtains and looked questioningly at Neville, giving him the once over. Once she had ascertained that he was neither injured nor in pain, she said "Yes?"

"I'm looking for Hermione," he said, "It's urgent."

"I see," she said, eyeing the flask in his hands. "That may be a little difficult at the moment. Why do you need her?"

Neville really hadn't wanted to say anything to anyone else. The answer to his question may be extraordinarily simple and if it were anyone other than Hermione, they might think he was even thicker than they had first imagined.

"It's…it's just a question about a potion, but I really have to speak with her now."

Madam Pomfrey hesitated for a while, then said "Well why don't you ask me Mr Longbottom? I do spend my time around many potions, you know." She gave a kind smile, but underneath it Neville thought he saw a flicker of nervousness. He knew it well because it was the constant state he himself was usually in.

"Well…" He thought about it. His question seemed to him very important, even though he could not put his finger on why. He supposed that if she were able to answer it, then he'd at least have the answer, snickering or not. "Well, you see, I was brewing a potion that Professor Snape had showed us in class…"

"You were brewing a potion without supervision?"

"Uh…no Madam Pomfrey, it was during the study session that we have with Professor McGonagall." She seemed okay with that, he thought, even though his explanation wasn't quite true. He had only gathered the ingredients during the study session and had actually made the potion back in the boy's dormitory. "You see, I was making the Demon's Rue potion, but instead of turning purple, like Professor Snape said it should, it turned…well…like this." He held up the flask in his hand. In it was a golden, sparkling fluid.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Neville," she sounded exasperated, "Potions usually turn a different colour if you don't make them correctly."

"No," he shook his head, "It's not that it turned gold, it's this!" And he took out his wand and vanished the fluid. Only the stuff didn't actually disappear, but instead gave off a bright glow and settled again, looking the same as it did before.

"It won't let me vanish it!"

Madam Pomfrey looked slightly bemused although Neville could tell that she thought that the problem was due to him and not the fluid that refused to disappear. She took out her wand and vanished the fluid for him. But instead of vanishing, it again glowed brightly, dimmed, and stayed resolutely in the flask.

The Mediwitch looked at the flask as if it had personally affronted her and tried again. And again. But to no avail. The stuff simply would not vanish.

"And that's not all!" Neville then poured a few drops into his hand, but instead of splashing against his palm, like it was expected to, it coalesced into a floating orb, just above his skin. Then, when he moved his fingers, the orb moved, not like he was manipulating it, but as if the orb was playing around his hand, even bouncing off a few fingers.

"Astonishing," the Mediwitch breathed, "I have not witnessed such properties in a potion before, let alone an accidental one…" She reached out her hand to touch the orb, but as her fingers made contact with it, it burst and fell to the ground with a small splat. Neville looked at her questioningly, but he could tell that she had no more of an idea about it than he, which was actually quite comforting. So it wasn't a stupid question after all.

Before either of them could say anything, another, larger orb formed itself from some of the remaining liquid and floated out of the flask. Neville held out his hand and once again the orb responded to his presence. This one, though, started to float up to his face and hung there, suspended, like it was looking him right in the eye.

Neville opened his mouth to say something, but before he could let out a sound, the orb moved at amazing speed and zipped into his mouth and down his throat.

After that, everything went dark…

IIIIIIIIIIII

"So then," Neville explained, "I ended up falling into here…where ever here is."

Ann's face turned from concentration to complete and utter surprise. "No. You're joking. YOU? But how? Is that possible?"

Since the demon was making absolutely no sense, Harry decided to make a foray into the conversation, even though he didn't really know where to begin.

"So…this potion got sucked down your throat, and you just fell into the Forgotten?"

"The what?"

"Wait!" Ann was becoming slightly hysterical. "You mean you have no idea how you did it?"

"Did what? Get here? I just told you…"

"Oh where's Miss Know-It-All when you need her...Look. The Demon's Rue potion may have been what you were trying to brew, but it certainly wasn't what jumped down your throat."

"Well I figured _that_ bit out - "

"Shut up. Looks like I'll have to spell it out for you. Who picked the mugwart?"

"The…uh…the mugwart? Well…I…I'm not sure."

"Exactly. Which means you didn't pick it. Which you were supposed to do."

"I was?"

"Oh yeah," Harry looked pensive, "I remember something about that."

And did you put it in before or after stirring forty six times?"

Neville thought for a moment, "After…I think."

Ann looked triumphant. "Exactly. And now you're here."

There was a moments silence before Ron said "That's not exactly spelling it out."

Ann sighed. "Not only did you _not_ pick the mugwart, but you put it in at the wrong time. Instead of the Demon's Rue, you made the Opdiatrum potion," She looked at Neville with a long-suffering sigh. "It may be that your sole purpose in life is simply to serve as a warning to others."

Neville glared at her.

"The Opti-…Oh," Harry was beginning to realize the implications.

"The Opdiatrum potion works in a similar way to the spell of the same name," Ann continued," It's usually used to meditate, to see inside one's own mind. That is, as long as you are the one that picks the mugwart. If not, you enter the mind of the one that did."

"Snape!" Ron was also beginning to catch on. "He probably picks most of his own herbs."

"Exactly."

Neville scratched his head. "Ookay, then."

Neville then noticed Snape, still lying where he had been dragged. Before he could ask any questions about his prone potions Professor, there was a small rumble that came from above. The noise became increasingly louder until the liquid around them began to ripple with the vibrations. They all stared into the darkness, but no one could see a thing.

"Sounds like a storm," Neville was the only one, apart from Snape, that wasn't wearing an expression of apprehension. How times had changed.

"That's no storm," Harry continued to search his surroundings. "Listen, Neville, this is really important. We don't have time to explain everything, but basically, there's something chasing us. Something bad. And all these ball things? They're Snape's memories, wrapped in some…stuff. Ann here can't touch the gold whatever-that-is and neither can the thing that's chasing us. What we need to do is defeat this thing and then free all these memories."

"Ooo…kay," Neville was now looking uneasily around the cavern. "So how do we defeat this…thing?" He was dreaming. Surely. But it was probably a good idea to play along with it…just in case.

Before anyone could answer the rumbling grew to a massive level. Suddenly they heard a cracking of some kind coming from high above them. It was the cracking of stone - the roof of their cavern. Pieces of debris began to rain on them, until the debris turned from the size of golf balls into the size of humans. Very large humans. And that one kind of looked like a grand piano.

Harry, Ron and Neville huddled together, trying to escape the falling debris. The larger ones had yet to fall on their island of stone, but they were certainly being pelted by the smaller ones.

"ANN!" Ron shouted above the din, "Do something!"

Ann, however, had once again buggered off.

Suddenly they spied a figure looming over them. It was large and lithe and coming straight for them, eyes blazing.

"DRAGON!" Harry yelled.

On instinct, he dove over Snape, protecting him from the form above. Ron, in turn, dived over Harry and Neville, still in shock and without believing his own actions, dived over them all.

The dragon swooped down on top of the pile of humans, talons ready, and grabbed onto the back of Neville's jumper. Neville screamed as he was pulled up and away from Ron and Harry, both trying to hold onto him.

The dragon flew with its human prey high within the cavern. It stopped and hovered in mid air, curving its sleek neck around to face its feet, and Neville grasped within them. Neville looked at its head with pure terror and started to scream anew when the dragon reared its head back in an unmistakable move. It was preparing to blow a gigantic ball of flame.

Harry and Ron had started trying their hand at wandless magic, yelling all the spells they could think of in the direction of the dragon. As the beast was ready to incinerate Neville one of the spells seemed to work and what appeared to be a bubble of energy moved from Harry and Ron and made contact with the dragon in mid-air.

The dragon whipped its head around towards Harry and Ron before turning back to Neville, apparently unscathed by the spell.

It once again reared back its head.

"NEVILLE!!" Harry and Ron screamed from below.

But then suddenly Neville was falling, once again, towards the glowing gold fluid far below him. As he splashed into its embrace, Harry and Ron kept staring at the place from where he had just fallen.

Because there was nothing.

Just before its final blow, the dragon had disappeared.

* * *

Review review review!!!! Pretty pretty please!!!!!


	24. Chapter 23: Awakening

* * *

Awakening

"Where'd it go?" Ron yelled, searching the air throughout the cavern.

"Neville!" Harry called to the rippling surface.

As he had done only a few minutes before, Neville surfaced, looking even more shocked. This time, though, the liquid did not support him above its surface. Instead, it began to cover him, as if it was pulling him under instead of holding him up.

"HE…HELP!" He yelled, flailing against the golden tendrils morphing from the surface as they began to cover his face

Harry was about to jump in after him, 'till he noticed that Neville had managed to grab a head-sized sphere and thus managed to stop himself from going under.

"Neville, you alright mate?" Ron called out to him.

"Ah…" he coughed a bit and tried to regain his breath. "I think so."

"Kick your legs towards us!" He instructed.

Neville nodded and did just that. Until – "Uh, guys? This thing is falling apart."

"What?"

"It's FALLING APART!"

Sure enough, the solid sphere had begun to melt between Neville's fingers as if it were warming golden toffee.

Harry and Ron realized what was happening.

"We've got to go after him, Ron!"

Before they were able to, a thin, silvery wisp of vapour seeped out of the dissolving sphere. The wisp turned quickly into a thick haze that when it was fully released flew away into the darkness above their heads.

Immediately Snape gasped loudly, eyes wide, and grabbed at his head.

Neither Harry nor Ron knew what to do.

Neville, now devoid of his floating device, grabbed at another one as his head was once again pulled beneath the surface. This new sphere began to dissolve quicker than the other, but Harry and Ron noticed something else strange. The threads immediately surrounding Neville's hands flashed with a soft silver light that then began to radiate slowly outwards through the liquid. The light began to make contact with a few other spheres that then also started to dissolve.

Within moments, three new wisps of vapour coalesced into hazes of different sizes and colours. Once complete, they too shot off into the darkness. Simultaneously, Snape let out a stifled moan. Ron noticed that his face was a picture of misery.

"Neville stop!" Harry called out. "We can't free the memories until we know the Efreet is really gone!"

But it was too late. With an apologetic look from Neville, the ripple of energy spread even further. And not only was it going outwards but downwards as well. One by one, then in larger and larger chunks, spheres that were beneath the surface bobbed up onto it and started dissolving and releasing their memories.

By this time, Neville had made it back to the platform and Harry and Ron helped him onto it. They all turned to see what was happening. Even without Neville in the liquid the light's effect continued. Another gasp from Snape and Harry, Ron and Neville spun around. Their Professor had begun to writhe and convulse, grasping and pulling at his hair.

"Sorry." Neville whispered as hundreds of vapours whisked off into the abyss. Moments later the air was thick with colours of mist zipping through the cavern, each avoiding the others with astonishing ease.

Snape began to scream.

Harry, Ron and Neville looked on in helpless fear. Their Professor was writhing and convulsing on the platform, clumps of black, wet hair threaded between his fingers.

"What do we do?" Neville looked terrified.

Ron surveyed the cavern. "I don't think there is anything we can do…"

The vapours began to thin, the last of the spheres emptying their contents and dissolving into nothing. Snape's screaming abruptly ended to be replaced with retching. Thick, golden fluid poured from his mouth as he lay on his back. Harry and Ron raced forward to turn him onto his side while Neville just stared in horror. His stomach's contents pooled onto the platform and began flowing off the edge.

Finally, the heaving stopped. Snape was breathing heavily and had tears and perspiration streaming down his face. Harry also noticed he was shaking with what he suspected was exhaustion and was barely able to hold his upper body off the ground. Harry and Ron lowered him gently and stood up. They surveyed the cavern once again while Snape regained his breath. The vapours had completely vanished. The Forgotten was empty except for the glowing golden pool, now looking the same as it had when they had arrived, sans the spheres.

Movement from Snape caught their attention, as their Professor began to lift himself into a sitting position. Harry, Ron and Neville stared at him, not knowing what to expect. Snape slowly took stock of his surroundings, of the cavern, of the Forgotten, of the rock platform and finally of the three highly apprehensive boys standing in front of him.

It took him a moment to remember how, and he struggled with the first syllable, but it soon came back.

"P..Potter…Wweasly…Longbottom." It was not a question, just a statement.

A series of whispered 'Yes sir's' followed.

Snape seemed to consider something and nodded his head ever so slightly.

"Perhaps…you would care to explain yourselves."

IIIIIIII

Meanwhile, a very annoyed looking dragon and a very pleased-with-herself looking young girl stood facing each other.

"So," the very pleased-with-herself girl said to the very annoyed dragon. "Long time no see, huh?"

IIIIIIII

It had not taken long to conclude with their explanation. In fact, all Ron had to say was, "Well, Dumbledore sent Harry this letter and told him to find this key..." And that about did it. Snape had immediately shot him a hard look and did not wait for any further explanation to get to his feet.

Well, to at least try. Both Ron and Harry had to fight the urge to step forward and help him up. That just wouldn't do. Not anymore. Neville, on the other hand, felt slightly nauseated at seeing his nomally so frightful Professor appear this...vulnerable. It was a similar feeling to the one he'd had when he'd witnessed Snape's spectacular break-down in the hallway with McGonnagall. He studied his shoes.

As it was Snape made it to his feet with no outside interference, although his efforts reminded Harry somewhat of Uncle Vernon's attempts to do the same that one Christmas when he decided it would be very fatherly of him to help his son open his present on the floor. Getting down was not a problem, but getting up took some considerable effort for a man his size.

Snape, of course, was not of his size, but had to expend about the same amount of energy and concentration as his mind reconstructed the life-long knowledge of how to do so that had only been replaced moments before. That and the fact that he had nearly drowned.

Snape looked across the cavern.

"Then I suppose we should find it," he said tightly. The boys looked at each other. They weren't exactly expecting that response.

They noticed a movement far off in the distance. As it came closer they realized that it wasn't actually something moving at all, but something materializing out of nothing. A bridge. It came into being longitudinally and after a few moments the boys were able to make out its curved, ornate handrails that seemed to be made from living branches. The bridge ended right at the end of the platform they were standing on. All four of them stared at it for a moment.

"Where was that when we needed it?" Ron said in semi-serious annoyance. Snape ignored him and began to cross the bridge, his footsteps echoing off the wooden planks.

Harry, Ron and Neville once again looked at each other. After a moment, they all simultaneously shrugged and followed after him.

Harry walked directly behind Snape and even though he tried to hide it, Harry could tell that the Professor was still a little uneasy on his feet. Harry's shock at the events of the last couple of minutes started to wear off slightly and he ventured conversation.

"Uh…Professor?"

He did not receive an answer and after waiting a few moments Harry wondered if he had heard him. He opened his mouth to ask again but was halted by a quiet yet stern, "Yes, Potter?"

"Do you…um…do you know where this key is, then?"

Another moment of silence. Then, "I have an idea."

Harry knew it was all he was going to offer but felt slightly buoyed by the response. As such, he decided to brave another question.

"Uh, Professor?"

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh.

"Yes. Potter," he said deliberately.

"Well, it's just that…you see, we had Hermione, here that is, and, well, she fell off this bridge, and, uh…it was pretty high and…well…what happens if you die? In here, I mean?"

Another few moments of silence. Harry swallowed. Snape's reply was dry, as though the words were not connected to any actual though he was having.

"I am sure Miss Granger will be fine."

And that was that. They walked the rest of the way in silence.

At the end of the bridge, which took them almost fifteen minutes to cross, they came to an ornate wooden door within the cavern's wall that itself seemed to be made of solid rock.

Snape hesitated only a moment, then pushed the door open.

* * *

To be continued...for another 7 chapters and an Epilogue.


	25. Chapter 24: Demons in the Wood

Demons in the Wood

It was night-time and they were in a forest. The door swung closed behind them and immediately began to disappear. Harry was about to make a grab for it on instinct but then realized that going back into the Forgotten was something he neither needed nor wanted to do, so instead he just watched it go. He looked up at Snape who was staring off into the distance. He looked at Ron and Neville who both shrugged. The three of them waited.

They had gotten themselves this far, now it was Snape's turn. After all, this was his head they were in, and now that he had his memories back, he would surely know what to do…surely. Unfortunately, Snape seemed to have not anticipated these surroundings at all.

After a few moments of scuffing their feet, Neville leaned in towards Harry and whispered, "Uh, this might be a bit of a daft question, but…where are we?"

Harry turned towards Neville and noticed that his face was a mask of worry, yet it seemed not to be directed within himself, but at the tall dark figure standing not a few metres away from them. Snape still hadn't made to move since they had arrived, but he seemed a million miles away.

"I think this might be a memory," he whispered back, not sure if Snape could hear him and not wanting to elaborate further if he could. Neville nodded, seeming to accept the situation. Harry had to smile. Neville seemed to be taking everything quite well, considering he had just been dumped into this mess with no prior warning. At least they had had Ann and Hermione to explain things to some extent.

Harry looked around to see if he could make anything out, trying to guess if this was the Forbidden Forest and if they were anywhere near Hogwarts. The moon peeked out from behind the clouds, highlighting the misty vapours that hung around their feet. They were, it seemed, standing on a path.

The four of them stood in silence, waiting, either for Snape to make a move or for something to happen.

Something happened first.

Harry heard Neville turn around. "Do you see that?" he asked quietly.

Ron and Harry turned to where he was looking. Snape turned a moment later, suddenly drawn from his reverie. They did see it. A faint, bobbing light was coming towards them through the trees.

"Hinkypunk?" Ron squinted into the distance.

"Hinkypunk," Snape echoed quietly. "You could call her that."

None of the boys wanted to question the comment so they continued to stare at the approaching light.

Snape's breathing became heavier but he continued to stare at the oncoming light which had now separated into two, both highlighting the figures holding them. One figure was holding a wand, the other a lantern. They finally came into full view as they rounded a bend in the path.

"It's Ann!" Harry began to stride forward. "Ann!" he called, "What were you thinking, leaving us like that?"

Harry drew level with the Demon but her small body passed through him like he didn't exist.

Another little body came behind the first, a body with messy black hair and a petrified yet determined look on his face. For a second, Harry almost recognised his younger self.

He spun around as the boy passed through him as well and followed them to where Snape, Ron and Neville were standing, all continuing to stare. To Harry's surprise, the girl stopped directly in front of Snape and looked towards the young boy who came up beside her.

"Sure you're not scared, then?" she said in a loud, provocative voice.

"No," said the boy quickly.

"No," Snape whispered, transfixed, once again appearing not to be entirely present.

The boy and Ann continued on their way. Snape followed. Harry, Ron and Neville made to follow also but Snape quickly turned around to face them.

"Leave," he said simply, the old Snape creeping back.

The trio looked at each other.

"But we can't sir…we don't know how…" Harry ventured.

"Leave!" he said more powerfully.

The children's lights began to dim into the distance.

"Hang on," Ron looked at his teacher defiantly, "We just carried you through a maze and almost did our backs in, barely escaped from being scorched alive by your sentry, lost Hermione, fell into that Forgotten stuff, nearly drowned, was almost eaten by a dragon…

"LEAVE!" Snape roared directly into Ron's face, his own contorting nastily. In an instant, his face fell and he stumbled directly into Ron, who caught him before he hit the ground.

Almost immediately Snape pulled away from him, turned around to stagger forwards a few steps before catching himself on a tree, breathing hard.

Ron couldn't believe what he was about to do. It wasn't as if he actually liked the git, or even felt sorry for him, but he stepped forward anyway and said quietly and perhaps a little awkwardly, "Hey, 's'all right, mate."

Snape froze. So did the others. When they thought they could hold their breath no longer, Snape slowly straightened up. Without looking back, he silently began to walk forward, towards the lights that were fading into the distance. Harry and Neville were wondering at Ron and Ron was just as determinedly wondering at himself. After silently considering their options, they followed after their Professor.

They caught up with him at a clearing with one tall tree in the middle. Snape was looking up at the tree. The trio looked themselves and could make out the lights beneath the foliage. The children were climbing the tree.

After a few minutes of watching, there was the unmistakable noise of glass smashing. It seemed that the lamp the young Snape was holding was falling, crashing into as many branches as it could on the way down.

Snape suddenly spun around. "Where's the werewolf?" he said more to himself than to anyone else. His eyes were slightly glazed and Harry wondered if he even recognised they were still there.

"The what?" Neville had forgotten to be petrified of Snape as he was too busy being petrified of the situation.

A horrific scream penetrated the near-silence, followed by another, this one far more unearthly. The tree began to shimmer in the faint moonlight as its branches were disturbed from within.

More screaming and more movement. Harry made to go forward to get a better look, but a hand caught him by the shoulder and held him back.

"Don't," Snape whispered. The Professor did not move his gaze from the tree, but Harry could feel the desperation practically radiating from his body as the hand squeezed painfully into his shoulder. Harry didn't go any further.

The screaming and wailing continued and raised to a crescendo. Harry noticed that Snape had still not removed his hand from his shoulder and realised that he had probably forgotten it was there. Snape's grip tightened even further but it didn't hide the trembling that Harry felt coming from it.

Suddenly the screaming stopped. The silence rang in their ears and they only barely heard the flapping of fabric as it fell through the air. It took a moment for them to realise that the fabric was attached to the small boy as he was hurdling towards the earth.

Quicker than Harry could have ever moved on a broom, another figure came flying into view. It snatched up the boy as he was about to land, pulled up from its dive and moments later came to rest gently on the ground.

The figure that caught the boy was grotesque. It looked like a thestral except that it was in human form, its eyes glowed red and the whole thing looked like it had been skinned. Large wings sprouted from its back, and it folded these behind its back as it placed the boy gently, almost lovingly, onto the ground. But for the immediate events, Harry would have thought that he was sleeping.

A moment later another winged creature fell from the tree and landed on the grass beside them.

"It's a wyvern!" said Neville.

He was half right. As soon as it had landed, the wyvern began to transform until a man stood in its place. There was no mistaking who this was, or at least which family he belonged to. His white-blonde hair fell just below his shoulders and his perfectly tailored clothes matched his dignified posture. And he was currently looking very annoyed.

"Malfoy," Snape whispered. He slowly began moving forwards. Harry, Ron and Neville followed quietly behind.

"I said to _let him fall from the_ _tree_!" Malfoy spoke with a haughty voice to the grotesque figure in front of him. "The werewolf, the harpy then _let him fall_!"

"Abraxas," the creature said in a sultry, inhuman voice, "You did indeed say that. You did not, however, specify how he was to land."

Abraxas fumed. The figure in front on him transformed into the sweet young girl they had seen moments before. She continued to speak. "What does it matter, anyway," she pouted, "It works, doesn't it?" There was no mistaking the venom in the last statement. Ann was obviously not happy about something.

Abraxas regarded the girl and seemed to consider something before pulling an object hanging from his neck out from beneath his clothes. The object was flat, round and about the size of Harry's palm. It was a deep, blood red but they couldn't make out the markings on it. He contorted his face into something resembling a smile.

"Yes," he said, almost to himself, "I suppose it does." His face contorted into an ugly smile.

Just then, Abraxas noticed something and jerked his head towards the boy lying on the ground. The young Snape was coming out of unconsciousness and was looking at Malfoy and what he held in his hand.

Abraxas' face darkened and he pulled out his wand. Ann immediately stepped between the wand and the boy.

"What are you going to do?" She asked in a tone that Harry thought seemed to be filled with thinly veiled panic.

"Relax," Abraxas said with another disgusting smile, "I'm not going to kill him. Too many questions. Step aside."

Ann stood her ground, looking defiantly up at the pale man. Abraxas grabbed the object around his neck and squeezed it. The object began to emit a light that filtered through his fingers. Immediately, Ann let out a cry and doubled over in agony. It looked as if Abraxas had cast crucio on her, and falling to the ground she was seized with convulsions that wracked her small body

"You're forgetting who has the Amulet of Ingvild," Abraxas hissed, sending drops of spittle flying. "I. Own. You."

"Not…forgetting," Ann shredded the words through her teeth, "Just enjoying…pissing you off…ahhh!" Ann's back arched unnaturally as Abraxas squeezed the Amulet harder.

Finally Abraxas released his hold on the amulet. He stepped over Ann who was trying to catch her breath and pointed his wand at the young boy.

"It seems a pity," he said in an almost fatherly manner, "To waste the memory of what was done here. But I'm afraid, my child, that you simply cannot remember my part in it…" He pointed his wand at the boy and whispered "Obliviate."

The world went dark.

* * *

Ingvild: From the Old Norse name _Ingvildr_, derived from the name of the Norse god ING combined with _vald_ "might, power". Thank you 'Behind the Name' website.

Thank you so much to those who have reviewed. You are awesome.


	26. Chapter 25: Shifting Paradigms

Shifting Paradigms

It was night-time and they were in a forest.

Which forest?

He searched his memories. He had been in many before, and one in particular. Images of that forest sprang into his mind, but they were jumbled, without focus or tether. He could sense some images, scents, sounds, but they didn't fit together like they should. He had to reach out to each of them, sort though the mess and pull out what was relevant. But what was relevant?

He had his memories back, that was sure enough, but they weren't where they were supposed to be. One did not lead to the other in the way they had done before. It was as though someone had taken his mind and shaken it, shuffling all the contents and their associations and left him to deal with the mess.

It had been hard enough remembering the names of the boys he had awoken to. Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, he reminded himself. Potter. Weasley. Longbottom. He didn't like them, not at all, but he wasn't exactly sure why.

Then they had mentioned the key. The key. That got his attention. Chunks of his memory fell into place with lightening precision, the main theme being that there was a key and he needed to find it. Imperatively. He had summoned the bridge to lead them out of the Forgotten.

Because the key wasn't there. Not anymore. So where was it?

_Find it._

Potter had asked him some questions as they crossed the bridge. Each one seemed to take too long to process, to think about and then to formulate an answer to. He wanted to say he didn't know, that his head was not quite right and to please leave him alone until it was but he couldn't bring himself to do it. His left hand had gripped the bridge's rails tightly, his right hidden in the folds of his sopping robes, both to prevent the boy behind him from seeing them shake. Each reply he gave was planned carefully and rehearsed silently before he attempted it, forcing its delivery to be dry and understated. The memories were swirling around in his head, trying to find a home, exposing themselves as meaningless sensory experiences, smells, tastes, feelings. He tried ignoring them.

And now he was in a forest. He knew it was a memory, but of what? The smells and sounds started to fall into place with an almost audible clunk. It was not the forest he knew well. The Forbidden Forest. No, not that one. Another one. He heard some sounds behind him but was too busy trying to put the pieces together in his mind to pay any attention.

It was a forest and there was mist on the ground and there was…

…Light.

He turned to his left. There it was. The light.

"Hinkeypunk?" Weasley asked.

A vision of a Hinkeypunk flew before his eyes. He remembered what they were, what they did. They lead you into danger. He saw the light and suddenly knew what it meant, knew who the bearer was and felt a sinking feeling in his stomach.

"Hinkeypunk," he said quietly, another memory clunking into place. "You could call her that."

Because that's what happened, didn't it? She tried to lead him into danger, didn't she? Vague images flashed before his eyes, unpleasant. A feeling of duplicity played somewhere around his chest. Why? Why was she like a Hinkeypunk?

He was sure he would soon find out.

The oncoming light separated into two and his supposition that this was _that_ night, and _that _forest was confirmed. His breathing increased pace. He didn't know if he wanted to relive that again. The details were hazy, but the feelings it evoked were nothing if not sharp and painful. It was the night that his six year old self had learned a new word.

Betrayal.

Potter began to walk towards the girl, seemingly to berate her. Snape felt momentary relief. If Potter told the girl off, maybe she would turn around and go back home.

_Go back home_.

It didn't work. They walked straight through Potter, and stopped just before they did the same to him.

"Sure you're not scared, then?" she said in a loud, provocative voice.

His heart beat stronger and faster. He could feel it in his chest as if calling for his attention. The girl that had caused him so much pain when he was younger was standing mere metres away from him.

Clunk.

Suddenly, he was six again, staring at her blond curls, at her heart shaped face and ice blue eyes and trusting her implicitly. Even if she did call him names. Because he had called her names right back. And she had laughed. And so had he.

Clunk, clunk.

She used to talk about a lot of things. She would never shut up, actually. And he would listen, agreeing with everything, even if he didn't know what 'economic growth patterns of Somalia' or the 'lack of moral ambiguity in the recording of history' meant. She had liked history, he remembered, another chunk of memory falling into place. But never Egyptian or Roman. She never talked about that, even when he had asked after seeing it in a book that belonged to a boy three doors down. But about everything else she talked and talked and talked. And he had listened and listened and listened.

"No," the younger him had said quickly.

"No," he whispered, reaffirming the statement. No, he wasn't afraid. Not anymore. He felt a surge of understanding, as if he knew this was where he was supposed to be. Right here, right now, all those years ago. He knew he had to follow them and suddenly wished they'd get on with it.

His younger self and Ann continued onwards, and he stepped aside for them, following after. He had only gone a few steps before he realised that the other three; Potter, Weasley, Longbottom, were also following behind him.

_No!_ A veritable landslide of memories showered into place, almost ripping the fabric from where they had fallen. His head ached as he began to process the implications of the identity of the three people standing near him. They had no right to be here, to see this. This was _his _memory, _his_ mind. Not theirs! He turned to face them. He wanted to tell them that however it was they came to be here, they had better leave before they damaged something, because that's inevitably what happened when these three were involved in anything. He wanted to yell at them for being so arrogant to think they could saunter around in his mind, for believing that they were invincible, for being concerned with things that they ought not be concerned about, for not being able to separate bravery and stupidity, for not being able to judge consequences accurately. For being so…

…Young.

But he couldn't. It was too much for his overwhelmed mind to deal with. Only one word came from his mouth, but he wasn't overly concerned because it summed up his train of thought quite nicely.

"Leave."

Even as the word left his mouth he knew the boy he was staring at would argue. Knew it with every fibre of his being that no matter what he said he wouldn't be obeyed, because this boy thought of himself as so above the rest of everyone else that somehow the rules didn't apply to him.

And who's to say they didn't? Everyone else seemed to think that way, didn't they? Special treatment was the rule, not the exception. For some reason, owning the name Potter seemed to grant you special status. Well, not here.

Potter opened his mouth, just as Snape expected. The moment a 'But' slipped out of his mouth, Snape moved to cut him off, taking a little longer than he liked for the thought to reach his mouth.

"Leave," he repeated more forcefully. No 'buts' or excuses would sway him. The Golden Boy's golden tongue would not work on him.

This time, Weasley opened his mouth. Ever-the-present side-kick who did no thinking of his own and instead just sprouted random words in Potter's defence. He would follow Potter to the death and thank him for it later. Stupid, stupid boy! Snape could hear blood pounding through his ears and his breaths increase pace. The boy was saying something but all he could think of was how many others would follow Potter to their death before seeing the truth. The whole lot of stupid children could have died last year at the Ministry and no one seemed to give a damn. Was the whole world blind? Did they enjoy wallowing in their own ignorance? He couldn't catch his breath. Weasley was still talking. Why weren't they gone yet? Get out, get out, _get out!_

"LEAVE!" he roared, pouring every bit of energy he had into the word, straining with the effort. Surely they would leave now. Surely.

But before he could find out, his vision darkened almost to pinpoints and he felt as if he were moving very quickly in circles, except he was sure he was standing still. His body lurched forward and for a terrible moment he thought he was falling from a very great height. His arms flailed for something to hold onto. He felt himself collide with a solid object, but that object held him tight and prevented him from falling further. He held onto it and breathed deeply, trying to clear his vision and swirling head. He held tight to it, as if letting go would send him over a cliff edge and not just to the ground he was standing on.

For less than a moment he recognised a feeling that was both foreign and yet strangely familiar. Someone had caught him. Him. He who was never caught, but left to fall, over and over and over.

Someone had caught him.

But the moment passed when he realised who, precisely, that someone was. The feeling of dread and shame was overwhelming, and he pushed himself away from the mere _boy_ who was pretending he cared. For surely that's what he was doing when he caught him; pretending. Like they all did.

He caught himself on a tree, trees don't judge, and waited for his breathing to even out and his vision to return to normal. He could barely believe the three behind him were experiencing this. Fate was never on his side, but this was just cruel. He braced himself for the laughter that would surely come. He knew it so well he could hear it in his sleep. And he waited.

Silence was followed by the sound of someone drawing nearer. He braced himself further. Then, completely unexpectedly, a soft, tentative voice.

"Hey, 's'all right, mate."

He froze. Had he heard wrong? He must have, either in content or in tone. The words started playing through his head as his mind grappled to deal with their meaning.

It's all right? All right? He wanted to turn around and confirm exactly what the boy thought was 'all right', because he was genuinely confused. Was the boy making presumptions? Did he really think that just by stating that something was 'all right' that it would be so?

It was too much. Too unexpected. So much so, in fact, that he could make no reply, even if he had known what that reply might have been. He noticed suddenly that his head had stopped spinning and his vision was clearing. Straightening up slowly, he also noticed that the lights were disappearing into the distance. His mind latched onto it as something solid and understandable. Ignoring everything else, he followed the two small beacons fading into the distance.

But even as he tried resolutely to ignore it, the words kept playing around in his head.

'_S'all right, mate. 'S'all right…'  
_


	27. Chapter 26: What's in a Name?

A/N: Wow, I can't believe how long it's taking me to get these up. I thought I had finished writing it, but then realised that a lot more needed to be said. So I'm in the process of rewriting and adding bits (to what I haven't yet published) and what-not. Anyway, I apologise for any and all mistakes. I was debating whether to polish it further but figured it was best to just get it out there before real life completely consumes me and I've forgotten what the word leisure means.

Oh, and if there's anything glaringly out of place, please let me know; reviews are great, even if they're to criticise...

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What's in a Name?

They were in darkness. No, not quite darkness. More like…nothingness, the kind you find when you close your eyes. Harry could, though, make out everyone else standing beside him, even though he could not identify a light source.

There was silence for a moment, then "What the bloody hell was that?" Ron. Naturally.

Snape seemed to be contemplating something intently and whatever it was he didn't seem too pleased with it. In fact, he reminded Harry of Ron when Malfoy had cursed him to spew slugs. Harry looked at Ron and Neville, no one seeming to know what else to say or do.

"Abraxas," Snape whispered to himself, "I had…forgotten." His head snapped up as though realising something and the nothingness slowly evaporated.

They found themselves in a room that reminded Harry very much of that shop he had accidentally landed in, in Knockturn Alley before his second year. It was filled with strange, seemingly random objects and devices, most of which he could not identify but they all seemed very old. It was quite similar to Dumbledore's office, he realised, with all the odd contraptions, but this room held a sense of foreboding, like the objects were not quite as benign as the ones in the Headmaster's possession. There were no windows, either, suggesting they were in a basement and to further this observation there were stairs over to their left that led up into the darkness. So it was a dark, dank and altogether unwelcoming place.

There were books too. Lots of them. 'Hermione's going to be annoyed she missed this,' he thought. They were piled in apparently no particular order on tables and shelves, along with equally as many scrolls, most of which seemed to be ancient.

Snape stared at one particular box that was sitting on a bench near one of the stone walls, recognition seeming to dawn on his face.

The door at the top of the stairs opened with a start, like the person throwing it open was planning on charging in as if he owned the place. The blonde-headed figure that sauntered down the stairs confirmed Harry's assumption. A Malfoy. In that case, he probably did own the place. Harry stepped back in spite of knowing that he was most probably in another memory.

The four virtual intruders watched as the young Lucius Malfoy, not yet eighteen it seemed, promenaded down the stairs with loud, striking footsteps. He was wearing grand, tailored robes with trimmings of emerald and looking very pleased with himself. Behind him came a most unmistakeable figure. Younger than Malfoy but already showing the trademark disdain on his face, Severus Snape glided down the stairs without making a sound.

Malfoy swung around and held his arms out wide, as if displaying some wondrous treasure.

"See?" He said sonorously, as if addressing a crowd, "And this isn't even half of what we own. The Ministry have no idea, fools that they are, that Malfoy Manor is home to some of the greatest Magical texts ever known."

Young Snape said nothing, but took it all in, seemingly awed and jealous simultaneously.

Malfoy began to pick up objects at random and study them with a contemptuous eye, as if to cement the fact that he owned them. He continued to study a miscellaneous object while speaking to Snape, who was himself exploring the room's contents with his eyes.

"I heard that they raided your mother's house," Malfoy said offhandedly. "Stupid thing, she should have guarded it better."

Young Snape snapped his eyes to Malfoy, giving him a cold, hard stare, his jaw clenched and his face slightly red. He took a steadying breath and spoke through his teeth.

"So is the _Demon_ paraphernalia here, then?"

Malfoy lowered the object he was inspecting and clenched his own jaw. Snape continued.

"It's just that your father seemed certain - "

"Never mind my father." Malfoy bit out. Snape hid his smirk. "Just remember you are to tell no one about this. I know it was your first time taking an Unbreakable vow, but I promise you should you break it in anyway, consequences will be…dire."

Snape's smirk had turned into a confident, lazy half-smile that he directed towards Lucius. "Don't worry about me," he said confidently, "I know how it works."

Seemingly satisfied, Lucius turned back to the room. "Alright," he said, "You can search for what you need, but no longer than half an hour. And remember what it is you owe me for this. It is not every day that a Malfoy opens his doors to _just anyone_, you know."

Either not catching the insult, or not caring, the young Snape quickly got to work. He began taking down tomes and scrolls and searching for whatever it was that he was searching for. Lucius sat on an old, ornate chair and watched him.

Ten minutes had passed and Lucius was getting bored. He stood up and addressed Snape.

"I'm heading upstairs. You can keep searching but don't think we lack an excellent security system. Leave everything where you found it."

Snape, busy searching through pages of yet another tome, nodded his head distractedly and Lucius left without another glance. Clearly, he thought that there were better things to occupy his time with.

After not finding whatever it was he was looking for in that book, he closed it and moved on to another. The next one he grabbed was right near the box that the older Snape had been eyeing earlier. The young Snape stopped, seemingly transfixed by the same box. He looked at it curiously and replaced the book.

Harry, Ron, Neville and the older Snape took a step forward, leaning over the boy's shoulder to see what was in the box, as his long, narrow fingers unfastened the clasp.

Inside, displayed on an emerald, satin lining was a silver disk. It reminded Harry of a silver medal the athletes won in the Olympics, engraved as it was with intricate designs he could not immediately make out.

Young and old Snape seemed enraptured by the object and it glimmered with a potential energy under their stare. Slowly the young Snape extended his fingers, hesitated only a moment then touched the gleaming disk.

Immediately a blinding flash of light flooded the room. It was so bright that the boys needed to fling their arms over their eyes to protect them from the brutal onslaught. The light seemed to have whipped up a gale, but when Harry chanced a look, it was not wind that was ripping at his clothes, but symbols and unfamiliar words that raced past. He then realised that he was also not merely hearing a wind roar past his ears, but a cacophony of seemingly random words spoken simultaneously by a hundred bodyless voices.

The light dimmed, but the words and symbols showed no sign of letting up. In amongst the chaos, Harry spotted the young Snape, still standing in the position he was moments ago, seemingly in a trance. Harry looked for the more age-appropriate Snape, and his stomach dropped. He was still standing, which was something, but his eyes had rolled into the back of his head, he looked deathly pale and was violently trembling.

"What do we do?" Ron yelled at him from not two feet away, the continual din assaulting their ears.

Harry shrugged, but Neville had already made up his mind. He stepped closer to Snape and, after looking fearfully back at the other two, took a huge breath and grasped his Professor's right elbow. Snape didn't notice.

"Professor!" He yelled over the uproar. "Professor Snape!"

Snape didn't seem to take any notice and Neville looked back to the other two, apparently at a loss.

Harry felt himself buffeted by a particularly vicious string of symbols, which effectively snapped him into a realisation. He had also experienced such horrible assault on his own mind, both during Occlumency training with the Great Git himself and when Voldermort was having a 'Let's Pick on Harry Potter' Day. So it wasn't quite the same, but Harry could relate. And since he could relate…well, it was worth a shot, wasn't it?

Harry moved towards Snape and grasped his other elbow. He shook his head once when Neville was about to leave his side, not quite wanting to do this on his own.

"Professor!" He yelled over the cacophony, making sure his grip on Snape's elbow was firm. "Look, this is _your_ head! _Your_ mind! Yours! Do you hear me? SNAPE!" Harry gave his Professor's arm a not-so-subtle shake. Snape didn't give any indication that he had heard and Harry was convinced he would be falling to the floor in a matter of moments.

"I thought you were a great Occlumens!" Harry continued, rationalising that petulance always had an effect on his professor. "Contain it, then! Snape! Do you hear me? Listen to me for once in your damned life, would you? THIS IS _YOUR_ HEAD!"

Snape seemed to snap into awareness, but the words and sounds kept accosting them. He looked around frantically, as if he was searching for something, and finally found not Harry's face, but Neville's.

Neville blanched, but still held Snape's elbow and gaze. Snape stared at him, wide-eyed and frenetic. "Mine," he whispered, then louder, "Mine!"

Neville nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir," He gripped Snape's elbow even tighter, as if to bring home the point. "Yours."

The words and sounds swirling around them started to abate. Gradually, they settled to a barely discernible breeze and hum. The basement they were standing in once more became clear and Harry noticed that young Snape had not moved the entire time. Now, he pulled his hand from the disk and looked around in confusion, but no more than one might obtain while trying to identify the location of a missing sock.

Neville and Harry still had hold of Snape's elbows, which was fortunate for the latter since he seemed to lose all strength and sagged to the floor. The teens on either side made his landing a soft one, and Harry then stood to look again at the silver disk the boy had touched. Young Snape was now looking at it with a mixture of intrigue and suspicion.

Ron was already studying the intriguing object with something like a scowl on his face. He looked up when Harry stood beside him.

"Not his day, really, is it?" He gestured almost imperceptively towards Snape. The edge of his mouth twitched slightly. Harry's twitched back. A whole conversation took place within those two minute gestures. Summarily, it said, 'Can you even believe we now even give a damn?' And replied, 'Tell me about it.'

Harry looked at the disk. An amulet. It had to be. One similar to what Abraxas had been carrying, but used for an entirely different purpose, even though he wasn't sure what that purpose was. He studied the engravings. "It seems as if there's a word – engraved around that circle-thing." He pointed out, leaning closer to read it.

"Oh yeah," Ron leaned closer too. "Ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics, it looks like. Wonder what it says."

"It's a name," Snape said in a low, almost whispered voice. Harry, Ron and Neville started. All eyes were on Snape, but he himself was staring off blankly into the distance. He apparently didn't notice that anyone else was in the room, let alone had his most loathed student still gripping his elbow.

"Whose?" Ron implored. He hadn't come all this way for riddles and suspense.

Snape exhaled, looking – as best as Harry could describe – stoned. At least, he had never seen him look so resigned, so…relaxed. He blinked once, slowly.

"Aha'niheshka."

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:)


	28. Chapter 27: Anchor in the Storm

A/N: Another long wait...sorry. Hopefully it's a sprint to the end now! Thanks so much to everyone who's reviewed! I again apologise for not responding personally. I figure if I do it for one person, I need to do it for everyone, and I'm just not that reliable. Also, with full time Uni and two jobs...well, let's just say I'm using it as my excuse... But thank you thank you thank you!

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Anchor in the Storm

They were in darkness. No, not quite darkness. More like…nothingness. The events of the last moment were whirling through his head. It was Abraxas. Abraxas had ordered the Demon to – essentially – kill him. But she had not. She didn't do it.

Why?

The question rebounded through his mind. Why have him killed? Why go to all the trouble of luring him into the forest, conjuring up an imaginary werewolf, then try to scare him out of the tree? As far as he could remember, Abraxas had not tried again. Ann had disappeared and that was that.

His mind was reeling. Thoughts and feelings were rearranging themselves in light of this new information and he felt nauseous with their progress.

"Abraxas," he whispered to himself, as if to solidify the memory and ground his swirling head. "I had…forgotten." Indeed he had. Before, he had remembered falling from the tree and nothing more, but now the appearance of the man after he had fallen was swimming through his head along with all of his other memories. It had merely been temporarily flung into the Forgotten, not decimated like other Obliviated memories. Another 'why?' pranced through his head. By all rights he should have lost that memory forever.

Regardless of why, he remembered staring at what Abraxas had around his neck. It was an amulet, certainly, the Amulet of Ingvild, if he wasn't mistaken, but it reminded him of another. He searched his memories. Where had he seen another like it? Similar, but used for a different purpose.

His mind grabbed onto another stray memory and pulled it into line. His head snapped up in anticipation. This one, he knew, would provide answers. How, he wasn't sure, but he had a feeling that he was about to find out.

He materialised into one of Malfoy's vast basements, filled with an assortment of random objects, many associated with the Demons that Abraxas had become so obsessed with later in his life.

An object sitting on a credenza caught his eye. It was nothing special to behold, just a plain, wooden box, really, but he knew that this plain, wooden box held something far, far from plain.

The door at the top of the stairs opened with a start. The usual grand entrance for a Malfoy, even if no one was there to witness it. A young Lucius Malfoy sauntered down the steps. His younger self followed.

Lucius made some display of showing off his inherited possessions, even though Snape knew he didn't have a clue what most of them were about. Finally he had left them and his younger self was able to get on with looking for what he was there for. A spell, if he remembered correctly. It was part of his 'research' that would eventually be integral in creating Sectumsempra.

But his search had been halted as his eyes were caught by the same wooden box Snape had noticed earlier. He drew closer to his younger self, peering over his shoulder to see what the box contained. He was vaguely aware of the others in his company doing the same and briefly debated whether he should tell them to bugger off. Deciding that it would take too much energy, he let it go. Besides, he was sure that something was supposed to happen now…something important…something…

His younger self reached out and touched the amulet, hesitating only momentarily. An immediate, blinding flash of light sent him stumbling backwards. A part of his brain was centred on being thankful that he hadn't made contact with one of the boys in the process. In fact, as the light died down he realised that they were paying him no attention, instead focusing on the amulet and his younger body.

That was, however, the last coherent thought he managed to grasp before his head exploded. He would have screamed if the thought process was there for the intention to make it to his mouth. Instead, visions of symbols flashed before his eyes, deafening him with their intensity. Incoherent words bombarded him with epic force until they choked him. He was no longer a body, but a presence. A presence that was being tortured by truly alien and excruciating sensations. He had no words for it, even if words had been in his vicinity to grasp. He couldn't breathe.

_Breathe!_

He wanted to explode, to vomit, to do _something_ to make it stop.

_Make it stop!_

He blindly reached for an anchor. Something. Something was there, but he had no way of locating it. The sensations assaulted his sanity. There! Another point of reference…somewhere. He struggled to identify it. A pressure. A grip. Then he heard it.

A voice. A voice from somewhere that was not his head. Outside. Yes. He had to get outside his own head.

The voice was saying something, words. They made slightly more sense than the chaos assailing his head so he latched on. The voice was calling to him, urgently. He tried to seek it out. What was it saying?

Suddenly the words sprung into his awareness. It said, "Your head, your mind. Yours!" The clarity hit him like an avalanche. The voice was right. It was his head. His. But what could he do? It was his mind but he seemed lost within it. The voice was saying something else. He only picked up one word.

"Occlumens."

He almost wept with relief. The voice had given him a way out. It had shone a light onto something that was already there, but buried deep within the sludge of confusion and onslaught of the amulet. Yes, he was an Occlumens. He could occlude it all. Couldn't he?

Doubt sprang from a fountain within his being. There was too much. Too much. But he _could_ Occlude it, couldn't he? Didn't the voice say that this was his head? Or did he only dream it? Was it ludicrous to even try to separate reality from the imagined?

But the voice answered as if it had heard his question. "THIS IS _YOUR_ HEAD!"

The knowledge of that fact alone permeated his consciousness and he was suddenly no longer trapped within the onslaught of symbols, words and incomprehensible voices. They were still there, though separate from his essence. He was in control. Wasn't he? He had to be sure.

He searched frantically for the voice that had provided the anchor, he needed to ensure that it was not just a facet of his imagination. Finally his eyes rested on a face, familiar, though not quite sure why that should be. Perhaps this face had provided the voice.

"Mine," he whispered to the voice, but then because he could hardly hear his own voice he reiterated, "Mine!"

The face nodded vigorously. "Yes, yours."

And there it was, the confirmation that he needed. If this head was indeed his, he could certainly control these thoughts invading his consciousness. He concentrated on winding their extremities closer and closer, weaving their threads with a practiced hand unrivalled by any other Occlumens. He brought the torturous entity to heel.

It took a few moments to retrieve his bearings. He was in his memory, in Malfoy's basement. With Potter, Weasley and Longbottom. He pushed the latter realisation aside. For now it was irrelevant, like a fly in the way of a bludger. Facts flitted through his head like a potion recipe.

He had seen the amulet once before, at his childhood home.

He had received a good, sound earful from his mother because of it.

The amulet was hers. The Demon's. But he hadn't known it then.

It must have been taken during the Ministry raid on his seventh birthday.

He noticed someone was talking.

"…wonder what it says?" Weasley. He vaguely wondered if Miss Granger could have answered his question. Probably. But since she wasn't here…

"It's a name," he supplied. Then, because they were probably wondering, "Aha'niheshka."

It was the first time he had ever spoken her name, her true name. A buzz of energy leapt up his spine. The entity of symbols he had forced into a sphere began to glow. The energy grew once more but this time, he was in control. Before letting himself become consumed with its force, he expelled the three foreign entities to their rightful place _outside_ his head. One last coherent fact whipped through his mind.

He had found the key.

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Review are always welcome! =D


	29. Chapter 28: A Breath Before a Story

A/N: I figured since this one was so short and the last one was essentially a perspective re-write, multiple chapter posts are necessary...

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**A Breath Before A Story**

They were once again flung into the nothingness before their surroundings exploded into light and colour. Words, people, places, things, smells, everything and nothing invaded their senses. Harry thought it was like being stuck in a giant projector that couldn't decide what to project and after a few moment of it, he began to feel quite ill.

He could no longer make out Ron, Neville or Snape. He couldn't even make out up from down or left from light, or even himself from everything else for that matter. All there was was the incomprehensible mess of sight and sound.

Then he felt a presence beside him, although could do nothing to make out what it was. The presence seemed to take hold of him, surround him like a bubble. It was a nice feeling, actually. Quite calming in the midst of all the confusion and lack-of-self. The presence started to push him, slowly at first, then faster and faster as though he was travelling on a rollercoaster – no, a slingshot and heading straight into…

Harry's eyes snapped open and he gasped as if he had just been flung from a giant trebuchet. Where was he? What had just happened? He was in Snape's head one moment, and then –

"Harry!" A bushy head flung itself into view.

"Her-Hermione!" He gasped.

Hermione launched herself at him, giving him a giant squeeze. "I'm so glad you're back!"

A gasp from an adjacent bed grabbed Harry and Hermione's attention and that was when Harry realised where he was.

Ron came to in a similar manner to Harry, and Neville, on the bed next to him, followed suit. Hermione gave each one the biggest bear hug she could manage. Ron looked quietly pleased with himself. He should wake up in this state more often.

"Hermione, you're alright!" Harry stared at her, just to be sure he was seeing what he thought he was seeing."

"Of course I'm alright. Well, had a nasty headache for a while, but apart from that…"

"But what happened when you fell off the bridge?"

"Oh…well…uhh, strangest sensation, but instead of hitting anything, I just kept falling and falling until finally, I…fell back here…"

"That's it?" Harry pushed his glasses that had been resting on the bedside table onto his nose. "You just…fell back here?"

Hermione nodded, but Harry wasn't convinced. Perhaps it was her lack of eye-contact, or her front teeth worrying her lower lip, but there was certainly something she wasn't saying.

"Falling…yes, I know that feeling," Neville muttered from two beds over, a look of contemplation on his face despite just experiencing the strangest events of his life. Perhaps the shock would hit him later.

"But you're alright?" Ron looked at her, assessing for any damage.

Hermione smiled brightly. "Of course, I'm fine. I've been awake for a while now. What took you so long?" She folded her arms in mock annoyance.

"Well," Harry began, moving over to Ron's bed, finding himself rather physically well, for all he had been through. He supposed that was to be expected, though; as far as his physical body was concerned, he had just had a rather long nap. "You won't believe what happened then."

They spent the next few minutes explaining to Hermione everything they had experienced since she had fallen from the bridge. Hermione was digesting it all, running everything over in her mind and asking a few pertinent questions. Afterwards, they sat in silence until Harry spoke up again.

"Uhh, don't think I'm complaining or anything, but where's Madam Pomfrey?"

The question seemed to shock Hermione out of her reverie. "Oh, I forgot! She's asleep in her office. She told me I could stay with you as long as I woke her the moment you woke up." And with that she jumped off the bed and made her way to the Mediwitch's office at the far end of the Hospital Wing.

The boys groaned. That's just what they needed now, poking and prodding. Brilliant.

Their musings were cut short, however, by a figure that seemed to have materialised in the middle of the hospital wing.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry jumped out of his bed and walked towards the headmaster. "We did what you said, in the note, but you wouldn't believe what happened-"

Dumbledore held up a hand and smiled slightly. "Somehow I think I would believe it," he said, his eyes twinkling as only his could. "But first, I think you would perhaps like something to eat. You must be quite hungry."

It was, of course, only after this statement that Harry and the others realised that this assumption was quite true.

"Wait until you are given the all clear by Madam Pomfrey, then feel free to join me in my office for a veritable feast."

As if on cue, Hermione returned with Madam Pomfrey. The Healer looked relieved to see them all up and apparently unharmed, but there was a stern glint in her eye. It appeared to be aimed directly at the Headmaster.

"Honestly," she said briskly to him, "You had us all very worried. A word of warning before another stunt like this would not go unappreciated."

Harry was sure Dumbledore's eyes twinkled behind his look of contrition. "Of course, Poppy. My sincerest apologies."

And with that he glided out of the room.

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Reviews are always appreciated. =D


	30. Chapter 29: Two Sons and a Story

A/N: It's a long one - settle in...

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Two Sons And A Story

After being given the all clear, and their questions about Snape being unanswered, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville indeed found Dumbledore's office full of every one of their favourite foods. A gentle calm came over them as they sat down to survey the offerings. The time of day, or night in this case, appeared inconsequential. There were pancakes, roast chicken, fruit salads, waffles, ice cream… Ron's eyes bulged at the sight as if his stomach hadn't seen food for weeks. Hermione rolled her eyes but tucked in along with the others.

Stomachs satisfied, Dumbledore cleared the table with a wave of his hand, swapping the leftovers for tea and lemon drops. His pensieve sat by his left side on an ornate, wrought iron stand.

"Now then," He settled into his chair, "I think I owe you four an explanation." He had eight eyes' undivided attention.

"I understand you know a little about Demons, but I think perhaps it would be best if I start from the beginning." He settled back into his chair, and gazed off into the distance. "Years ago, as you may know, Demons were part of everyday life for a powerful witch or wizard. They were usually conjured for use as an ally, and sometimes the lesser Demons were conjured to be companions for lonely witches or wizards, sometimes for children."

"Like a pet? That's horrible!" Hermione chimed in.

"What?" Ron retorted back, "It's no different from Cruikshanks."

Hermione glared at Ron, but her full venom wasn't in play.

"Sometimes as pets," Dumbledore smiled, "Sometimes as agents of great destruction. The more powerful the wizard, the more powerful the Demon he could conjure, and many horrible atrocities were committed with their assistance."

"Why don't we hear more about them?" Harry said, "Surely if they did so many things, they would be in history books everywhere."

"You may think that that would be the case," Dumbledore nodded, "But the wizards in control of their Demons never advertised that it was their doing. It would have…how should I put it? Shown them up. As wizarding folk we don't like to admit that another being is more powerful than ourselves. Further, it was not within a wizard's best interest to publicise how many Demons he had or how powerful they were. It kept the enemy guessing.

"The most common way to use your Demon against an enemy was to manipulate his mind. Demons are beyond expert legilimens; they make what we can do seem crude and childish. Many a man has been persuaded to his destruction by the tweaking of a thought. In the years leading to the Demon Raid, there was increasing speculation that high ranking Ministry officials were targeted by…less than scrupulous opponents. This, and it also seemed as if measures to protect against the Demons were failing."

"So that's why the Ministry banned them." Hermione surmised. Dumbledore nodded.

"That they did. That is to say, they tried. It was difficult to collect all the amulets and objects that held individual Demons because they had been so secretive for so long. Nevertheless, the rein of Demons seemed to be at an end. The amulets and other objects were confiscated, the Demons released and sent back to Ifurin, and the gate to the Demon otherworld locked."

"How was the gate locked?" Harry spoke up, his curiosity piqued, "Ifurin is supposed to be in another dimension or something, isn't it?"

Dumbledore nodded. "It is locked, Harry, from the inside. The Demons were ordered to return to Ifurin and lock the gate behind them, as only the most powerful knew how. They did, however, leave a key behind. A key that could open the gate from our side. It was a…parting gift from the Demons. I have my own speculations as to why they did this. But the key was to be made available when it was needed."

Hermione looked pensive, "When Balder and Höder; light and dark, aren't equal."

Dumbledore nodded. "Exactly."

"But not all the Demons were sent back…evidently." Harry said.

"There were a few amulets and objects that were able to be hidden from the ministry, but rarely used, from my understanding, because of the penalty for having a Demon under your command. There was one Demon in particular that I know of, who resided for a while within a house directly adjacent to Professor Snape."

"Ann," Hermione surmised, her mind working so fast Ron decided that if she thought any harder, she'd start blowing smoke.

"Aha'niheshka, yes. Ann is a Jinn who was Summoned from Ifurin thousands of years ago. Demons are usually kept in household objects or non-descript amulets, but Ann has been kept within an amulet especially designed and made for the purpose. The reason this amulet was made was so it could be given as a gift to a newborn boy."

"To Snape?" Ron asked, trying to piece everything together.

Dumbledore chucked. "Not quite. The amulet was made over two thousand years ago. It was given to a baby by the name of Caesarion."

Hermione's mouth fell open. "Not _the_ Caesarion," she gasped.

"The one and the same," Dumbledore smiled wryly.

"Wait. What? Who?" Ron was becoming thoroughly confused.

"You may know him," said Dumbledore, "As Ptolemy the fifteenth Philopator Philometor Caesar. Son of Julius Caesar and Cleopatra."

"Wow," Neville deadpanned, "That's…old."

"Quite. Aha'niheshka, under the instruction and control of Cleopatra became a mentor, tutor and protector of Caesarion. That is, until his death at the age of seventeen. Not much is known about his death, officially, but it is my understanding that it was Aha'niheshka who killed him."

"What?" Harry leaned closer.

"But, surely Cleopatra wouldn't have let that happen…oh," Hermione stopped as she realised something.

"Cleopatra apparently committed suicide only days before Caesraion was killed, but not before passing over sovereignty of Ann to him. As far as he knew, he had complete control of the Demon."

"But then how…?"

Dumbledore nodded, "There is only one way that I know of to release a Demon from its current master without their permission or knowing and to put it under another's command. This is through the Amulet of Ingvild."

"The amulet that Abraxas had!" Harry's eyes grew wide.

"Exactly. Octavian, Julius Caesar's adopted son, saw Caesraion as a threat and used the Amulet of Ingvild to turn the boy's Demon against him and thus claim Roman power over Egypt. Records of Ann's amulet from that time are then lost from official documentation, but chance eventually brought it into the possession of Snape's mother's family, two thousand years later."

"And so Snape's mother used Ann's amulet in the same way that Cleopatra used it," Hermione surmised, "That's why Ann was in the form of a young girl. She was being a…" Hermione searched for the word.

"Friend," Dumbledore supplied. "Eileen came to me one day, when Professor Snape was six years old, to reveal that she had summoned Ann as a companion. And to keep him safe. But something had gone terribly wrong."

"That night in the forest," Ron was nodding with a furrowed brow, "When Abraxas used his Amulet of Ing…whatever. He used it on Ann. He tried to make her kill Snape."

"But she didn't kill him," Harry said. "She found a loophole this time."

Dumbledore nodded with a glint in his eye. "That is Ann. If there is a loophole to be found, she will find it. Nevertheless, having Ann around was far too dangerous. I tried to convince Eileen to give me the amulet, but she refused. After she left I thought I would never see the amulet again. That is, until I realised that Abraxas Malfoy had developed quite a penchant for Demon paraphernalia. It was rumoured that he was trying to discover the key to Ifurin to release the Demons back into our world."

Dumbledore took a deep breath and seemed to contemplate something. "Now, I'm not going to say what I did then was perhaps the best course of action, or certainly the most honourable, but I do believe I made the right decision. When I heard that Abraxas was ill with Dragon Pox, I took my chance." Dumbledore's hand disappeared inside his robe and then reappeared holding a familiar object.

"You stole it!" Ron said, obviously impressed.

"Ahh…" Dumbledore considered his comment for a moment. "Yes."

Ron raised his eyebrows appreciatively.

"I was, in fact, looking for the Amulet of Ingvild, but it was Ann's amulet that I found…almost as if it was waiting for me…" Dumbledore seemed to be reminiscing for a few moments, then turned towards the pensieve. "I only touched it with my bare hands while I was back in my office," he said as he pulled a small silver slither from his temple and placed it in the pensieve, "And was greeted, quite surprisingly, with this."

The silver mist swirled within the stone basin as Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville leaned closer to peer over the rim. The mist seemed to peak in the middle and slowly became a moving, indistinct shape a palm length above the pensieve. To their surprise, the shapeless blob began to speak…or, at least, a voice came from it.

The voice was loud and commanding, but no one could tell whether it was male or female, old or young. It was like a mixture of all voices and sounded quite surreal.

"And Balder's pile of the glowing sun  
A symbol true blazed forth;  
But soon its splendour sinketh down  
When Höder rules the earth."

"That's our prophecy!" Hermione sat up even further. Dumbledore nodded but motioned for her to keep listening.

"And he who 'bides within them both  
Though does from one abate  
Shall be the one who carries on  
And finds Ifurins' gate.

A fearful wonder waiteth there  
For all those brave to see  
And those who hear this seer's tell  
A task is set to thee.

The one who carries Balder's light  
Within Hödur's abode  
Shall be revealed unto the night  
As Scorpion to Toad.

And he shall hold the knowledge  
Tight within his guarded mind  
Of where the key is hidden  
Thus Ifurin he can find

But access to this knowledge  
Will be guarded firm as stone  
For only four can manage  
To access this prized tome.

Four children you must occupy  
To shoulder this here task  
Just who, will be apparent  
Presently, before you ask.

They'll enter 'pon your life at hand  
One day you won't expect  
And bring with them pure chaos  
But of you they will respect.

Present to them this vital task  
For with a guide at hand  
They may just find Ifurin's key  
Releasing all the Damned.

The twins must rein but equals  
One must not be left in truss  
Accept this charge unquestioned, which  
Begins at Erebus."

The silvery figure disappeared, leaving silence in the room.

After a good thirty seconds, Hermione spoke. "Oh my. We missed half of the prophecy."

Dumbledore chuckled while replacing his memory. "I believe you found exactly what you were meant to find," he said, "The Demons did indeed leave a key. And not only that, instructions on how to find it, both to you and to me. But I think their involvement extended beyond leaving instructions. I think the plan to open the gate after the Wizarding folk ordered it shut was set in motion even before the Ministry Officials knew they were going to do it."

"The books!" Hermione breathed, "The one on Demons that I found the first carving in was donated by Abraxas. Do you think the Demons somehow _made_ him donate that one specifically so that we could find it, all these years later?"

"I wouldn't be surprised," Dumbeldore said, "Demons have more tricks up their sleeve than any other magical creature. It is only to our detriment that we did not try to understand them more when they were abundant. Still, I think their involvement went beyond that because somehow they embedded the knowledge of the key into Aha'niheshka's amulet in a similar way to how they embedded this prophecy. Except the 'key' was only accessible by the touch of another."

"Snape!" Neville said, "In Malfoy's basement."

Dumbledore nodded once again. "The knowledge was transferred into his mind, but locked in the Forgotten. Access to it could only be gained by the involvement of four, according to the prophecy."

The four he was addressing were looking highly pensive.

"And so that house elf, Dinky, or whatever its name was, that was a Demon telling me the first bit of the prophecy."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Ann did tell me about her little foray into the corridors." Neville paled ever so slightly, but said nothing more.

"Then Ron and Harry falling asleep at the scrying glass while Neville and I were…searching for books, that was planned also?" Hermione was considering keeping this detail quiet, but realised that Dumbledore probably knew about it anyway.

"Actually," Dumbledore took a deep breath and exhaled, "That, I believe was not part of the Demon's plan. It was in fact, the Efreet."

"So that thing _was_ out to hurt us?" Ron frowned at the memory of their encounter. "Or at least stop us from finding the key?"

Dumbledore's face turned grim. I believe the Efreet was summoned by one of the Death Eaters and sent to acquire the key for themselves. That much untapped power…they would undoubtedly become unstoppable. That is why I needed to go searching for this." And he pulled out another amulet, this one blood red, from his robes.

"The Amulet of Ingvild!" Hermione breathed. "But where did you find it? Was it still with the Malfoys?"

"That," Dumbledore said, "Is a story for another day. But I can assure you, the Efreet, Daedalus, will no longer be a problem." And he returned the Amulet of Ingvild into his robes.

"So what happens now?" Harry asked, "I mean, we went into Snape's mind, unlocked his memories, saw Ann's amulet in Malfoy's basement…but what now?"

"You have done well," Dumbledore smiled at them, "Very well, but now it is up to Professor Snape to deliver the key to Ifurin and…it might take a while."

"How is he?" Hermione spoke up as if she was ashamed of only asking now, "Professor Snape is going to be…alright, isn't he?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "I think all Professor Snape will need is a headache-relieving draught and he will be fine." His expression then took on a more serious appearance. "But I do trust that you will hold all the information I have given you in the strictest confidence."

All four nodded their heads vigorously.

"Well, then, if you have no more questions, perhaps returning to your dormitory is in order. It is rather late…or early. I believe, however, that no teacher would see anything amiss if you perhaps took the day off to recuperate. Traipsing around a mind can be a tiring expedition."

Harry, Ron and Neville broke into Cheshire-cat grins while Hermione looked as though she was contemplating if that was perhaps a good idea. The four stood and made their way out of Dumbledore's office. Now that their stomachs and most of their curiosity about the past few day's events were satisfied, they began to realise just how tired they were and headed directly towards the comfort of their own respective beds.

They didn't quite manage to make it all the way, though, for walking through the portrait and into the Gryffindor common room, they spied a puzzling scene.

A little girl with blond curls that fell to her shoulders was jumping up and down on one of the couches, giggling hysterically. Another, unfamiliar figure of a young man was sitting in one of the armchairs with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face directed at the girl. Then there was a house-elf they immediately recognised as Dobby, who was also looking at the girl and shaking his head, half in disapproval, half in wonderment.

Dobby noticed the four enter the common room and turned to them.

"For being thousands of years old, Dobby would have thought Demons might be a little more polite," he said.

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Hmmm...hope that wasn't too confusing...

Reviews are always appreciated! =D


	31. Chapter 30: Journey to the Past

A/N: Okay, so a stupid amount of time has passed since I last posted anything on this story. If anyone at all is still interested in reading it, I profusely apologise. Life gets in the way of things I guess, but I will never again start posting something I haven't yet completed. I promise. Lesson well learned. I had wanted to rewrite this ending, and maybe one day I will, but for now it's staying the way it is because I just need it to not be hanging over my head. So eschewing further waffling, I give you chapter thirty...if you care at all to read it...

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Journey to the Past

_Not So Many Years Ago…_

Thick black smoke vomited directly upwards from the floor to the ceiling. It spiralled ferociously, like the funnel of a tornado. Bolts of lightning crackled in and around the circle that had been ornately drawn on the floor and in which the viscous column of smoke now spewed forth.

The temperature dropped rapidly and icicles began to form on the curtains. Snake-like tendrils slithered their way from the column towards the figure standing in the centre of the room.

Long skeletal arms reached forwards ominously, impossibly thin and grotesquely deformed. They accompanied the smoke tendrils reaching towards the figure standing in the other circle.

Red eyes materialized in the column, wild and manic. They stared at him, the figure, with lust and hunger. They bored down on him like a predator eyeing its prey. They incited fear into every sinew of his being. Stupid, pathetic human.

Except this stupid, pathetic human was looking rather pleased with himself.

And I knew why.

I saw it before I saw him. The disc that I had seen but once before, many years ago now, hung around his neck, glowing blood red and bathing his face with an ominous glow. The trump card.

The amulet of Ingvild.

Still, I knew my visage was having at least a slight affect. His adam's apple bobbed a few times and he held tight to the amulet. His eyes even flicked to his feet to make sure they were still securely within the circle.

"Demon!" He intoned. I would have rolled my eyes if I wasn't so intent on making them scary-looking. "By the supreme power of the seventy-two Spirits of Solomon the Wise, your nobility and Kings, I have summoned you to this Circle through the command of Ingvild. By this venerated power I hereby release you from your former Master, Eileen Prince, and command your allegiance to me, Abraxas Malfoy."

Such overkill. Nothing says amateur more than harping on about Solomon and talking like you've got an Idiot's Guide to Summoning shoved up your backside.

But there it was, Abraxas had found the amulet and I was screwed. Again. I had only been in service to Eileen for a couple of years, since her son was four, and now I was being pulled away again by the same damned amulet I had faced two thousand years ago.

As it does, the black smoke faded and I decided to make a last ditch attempt at scaring him out of his wits. It wasn't unheard of; I had done it a number of times myself, actually. Freak them out enough, and they just might step out of the circle. Step out of the circle…

…and you're mine.

I decided on something resembling a harpy. It's difficult to choose a form that would scare a particular human the most. Boggarts are great at it, but it takes us a while to figure it out, especially in a circle. Still, a skinned, wing-bearing creature somewhat resembling human form often does well. One of my own inventions, actually.

My eyes remained glowing red as I snarled at him. I was as tall as I could be, given the size of the basement we were in. My wings were outstretched, quite impressive, really, and I wafted a scent of sulfur and vomit. Usually does the trick. He swallowed again and began breathing through his moth, but did not take a step. Damn.

"Demon!" Tsk. I have a name, you know. "Your new commands are such; at midnight on the second of June this year, you are to lure young Master Severus Snape into the Redwood Clearing of Hatchet Forest. There, you are to climb, with him, until you reach a wyvern nest. Upon reaching said nest you are…you are…" His eyes darted around the room but looked at nothing in particular. He was thinking. Frantically.

Gods, he hadn't a clue what he was on about. He was making it all up as he went along! The realization hit me like a jet engine. Which hurt, by the way, if you're not too careful when taking the form of an eagle. Or so I've been told.

"…To make him believe a Werewolf is climbing the tree after him!" Huh?

Now, I'm not exactly a young whippersnapper. I've been around. Done a lot of things under the command of a lot of stupid humans. But this was just downright bizarre.

A realisation hit me. He was mad. Stark, raving, totally off his rocker, one can short of a six-pack, mad. Oh, I knew it, alright, I've dealt with humans long enough to know full well what the insane ones feel like. I didn't even have to invade this one's mind to know it, the glint in his eyes was enough. Downright unhinged sociopathically insane. I didn't see it right away, but only because I was concentrating too much on the (damned) amulet. Now, I saw it. It was like all his Christmases had come at once, according to his eyes. Like a kid in a coked-up candy store. He had his Demon, he had the amulet, and now he was having a cracking good time.

Damn.

"Alright then," I said, making to leave. If I made enough of a show about it, he might actually let me go. He hadn't said anything too horrible, really. Get the boy to climb the tree and make him think he was being hunted by a werewolf. I could do that, and in the morning we could have a picnic and laugh about it. Done.

"Wait!" Abraxas held out his hand. "That is not all!" His mind was playing over possibilities. "You are then to transform into…this," he waved his hand in my direction, "This…harpy creature. Yes, that's it!" Now he really looked like he was enjoying himself, as if just thinking about the outcome was exciting him immensely. A jab of protectiveness shot through my being. Humans are not my cup of tea, of course, but the boy had been somewhat…agreeable, and the thought that this disgusting human in front of me was getting his rocks off at his expense was, quite frankly, sickening.

"Okay: tree, werewolf, harpy, got it," I once more made to leave.

"No!" He was becoming angry, I could tell my impatience was getting to him. He wasn't thinking clearly, calmly. Angry people make mistakes, and I hoped his would be in my favour.

"I don't want you to touch him, oh no, but scare him, put the fear of a Dementor into him," his eyes twinkled manically. "And then," his eyes went wide as if he was reaching his peak of ecstasy, "Let him fall." His words had collapsed to a whisper, like they were crystalline objects of beauty.

While he was staring into the distance, I took the opportunity to roll my eyes. I then bowed low, indicating that his last words had been the climax of his commands, and that it was the proper thing to do to dismiss me now. Now now now, damn it.

And he did.

Thank stupid humans for small miracles.

His commands played over in my head as I stalked back to my current human residence. I knew now why he had commanded these tasks of me. He was insane, yes, but not entirely without some thought processes. He knew my commands from Eileen had been to protect Severus from all harm, to keep him safe, and to be his…friend. (Honestly, could a human get any more sentimental? Anyway…) Abraxas' commands had entirely subverted Eileen's. He was just…trying it out. He was trying the damned amulet out, to see if it really did what it was supposed to. Taking it for a spin like Clarkson in a Beugatti. At least killing the boy I had served two millennia earlier was done for the sake of obtaining the Roman Empire. At least that had substance, but this! He was not the son of anyone important, nor contingent to anything substantial. He was just…a boy. Just a boy.

But Abraxas was a novice. He had obviously never Summoned before and had left out a few explicit details. Let him fall, he had said, and I knew his intention was for the boy to hit the ground. It would prove without a doubt that the amulet was truly as powerful as Legend made it out to be. Leave it to a human to make absolutely sure before he starts taking over the world. Then leave it to him to stuff it all up with a simple oversight.

Falling doesn't kill you.

I smirked. Of course, I could kill Severus if I wanted to. He was nothing, besides. Like I said, just a boy. But out of spite to Abraxas I wouldn't.

So there.

_Some Time Later…_

Well, this was a turn of events I had not predicted, certainly. I had done it, carried out his orders. Scared the boy senseless and let him fall from the tree. I couldn't refuse, clearly, but I certainly made Abraxas mad by purposefully misunderstanding his intention. Human-baiting should be a sport; I'm very good at it.

Still, I think he had a much more enjoyable time punishing me, and this seemed to take his mind off killing the boy. Why bother, anyway? He knew the amulet worked, and now he could get on with world domination or whatever it was that he was planning on doing with me.

Except that world domination is a little difficult when you've come down with Dragon Pox. As far as I know it had remained dormant in his system since trawling Siberia looking for more Demon paraphernalia. The others thought he was mad (well…he was, really) but his persistence paid off; that's where he had found the Amulet of Ingvild. Unfortunately (for him) it also meant that he was exposed to the most insidious and virulent form of Dragon Pox known to mankind (note I said 'mankind' – there are three you haven't discovered but I'm keeping my mouth shut). Less than a week after the 'tree incident' he had developed symptoms. Five hours later, he was dead.

Just my luck. My essence is now stuck in my amulet in one of Malfoy's basements, courtesy of an 'anonymous' tip-off that Eileen was hiding it in her house. But since it went 'missing' soon after, no charges were ever laid. Convenient.

Anyway, it's far nicer than any ordinary object most Ifacaucins are stuck in, but still, stuck is stuck. My consciousness is completely separate from my body, of course, but I can make no manipulations to human minds and can take no solid form. Quite the bore, if you ask me. Although I did get to watch a few West-End productions. Cats has so far been my favourite. This T.S. Elliot seems to be the only human in existence to realise that felines have far more secrets than they realise. And Webber composes some cracking good tunes.

Still, I thought with great smugness of the next action I had taken on that 'tree' day. For no reason other than spite, I had lessened the blow of the Obliviate he had sent the boy's way. I didn't mention it to him, though. Sometimes it's best to be smug quietly.

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I really can't ask for reviews, given my length of time between posts, but if you can find it in your heart to do so I'll love you forever.


	32. Chapter 31: Might Like to Know

**Previously (From Two Sons and a Story):**

_Walking through the portrait and into the Gryffindor common room, they spied a puzzling scene._

_A little girl with blond curls that fell to her shoulders was jumping up and down on one of the couches, giggling hysterically. Another, unfamiliar figure of a young man was sitting in one of the armchairs with his arms crossed and a scowl on his face directed at the girl. Then there was a house-elf they immediately recognised as Dobby, who was also looking at the girl and shaking his head, half in disapproval, half in wonderment._

_Dobby noticed the four enter the common room and turned to them._

_"For being thousands of years old, Dobby would have thought Demons might be a little more polite," he said._

* * *

Thought You Might Like to Know

"Ann!" Harry stared in shock as the Demon continued to jump on the couch. "What are you doing here?"

Ann stopped jumping and looked at Harry. "I'm JUMPING!" she held her hands out as if she was explaining something to a five year old, then continued her jumping and giggling as if there had been no interruption.

The four of them stared at each other before Ron spoke up. "Hey, how come you left us in there? In the Forgotten? We were about to become toast to that stupid Efreet thing and you just left! You're such a coward!"

Instead of coming back with one of her usual retorts, Ann flopped down onto the couch and began to laugh even louder.

"'Stupid Efreet'!" she shrieked, "Did you hear that? I'm not the only one who thinks you're a half-witted clodpate!" And she laughed so hard that she almost fell off the couch.

It was then that the brooding young man in the corner decided to speak. "Please excuse the Jinn," he said dryly, "Ifucaucins are distantly related to your house elves and as such, when assuming physical form can be somewhat susceptible to the side effects of butterbeer."

"Butterbeer?" Ann sat up. "Did you say there's butterbeer? I could do with another pint or two or three or..."

Dobby shook his head. "No more butterbeer," he said firmly.

Ann sighed, looking slightly dejected. "Well, it was fun while it lasted."

Recovering slightly from shock, the four turned their attention to the young man who looked like he was perhaps in his final year of schooling. His brown hair was swept to the side and reminded Hermione of what she thought Prince-charming style characters from story books should look like. His robes too were certainly not of the inexpensive kind, with deep maroon and velvet trim.

"So ahh…who are you?" Ron asked, deciding to ignore Ann for the moment.

The young man stood up and walked to the centre of the room where he stood quite regally and addressed the four.

"My name is Daedalas, son of Erkenheise the Great and Lothmorian the Brave. I have served Victor Amadeus II of Sardinia, Prince Albert of Saxe-Coburg-Gotha, the Grand Duchess of Hesse and by Rhine, The Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz-"

Ann burst suddenly into another fit of hysterical laughter.

"The Grand Duchess of Mecklenburg-Strelitz!" she squealed, promptly falling over practically screaming with mirth.

Daedalas looked affronted. "Watch your mouth, Jinn," he hissed. Ann, recovering immediately looked at him with a challenging glare.

"Go on, just try it," she said, eyes glinting and looking slightly more sober. "Dumbledore'd have you confined to Madame Pomfrey's underwear draw just for trying!" And she collapsed once more at her own hilarity.

"Wait a second," Hermione stepped forward, eyeing the young man. "Daedalus? Didn't Dumbledore say that the Efreet's name was Daedalus? You're not him, are you? I mean…oh my."

Daedalus drew himself up to his maximum height, which was not quite taller than Ron, so the effect was somewhat subdued.

"I am indeed an Efreet, most powerful of all the Ifacaucins…"

Ann snorted loudly. "Unless Dumbledore has you serving him, like now, in which case, you're not even remotely powerful…like now!"

"You must be extremely intoxicated, _Jinn_, or you would not be saying such things!" Daedalus hissed. His face was turning an interesting shade of purple.

"Too many pleasantries for an Ifacaucin currently bound to another!" Ann jumped up, "Honestly, you'd think after a thousand years that you could at least call me Ann. Or Annie. Or Ana-naaa-na-na- " and with that she broke into song that sounded remotely familiar to Harry.

"Okay, stop!" Ron decided to regain some order. "Look, if you're the Efreet…well…why aren't we running for our lives right now?"

"Because Dumbledore has that Amulet thing!" Neville said, slapping his forehead, "He must have summoned both Ann and this guy, who was the dragon, just at the moment when the dragon had hold of me!"

"And you…know each other?" Ron was looking from one Demon to the other.

Ann shrugged. "What can I say? Friends come and go but enemies tend to accumulate."

"Wait, why are you here?" Harry rubbed his own forehead, feeling a twinge of a headache settling in. This was all becoming a little too much. "We did what we needed to do."

"Yes, I know, I was celebrating," Ann held up a rather empty mug of butterbeer. "I did what I needed to too, which was to "protect Severus", and now that loathsome job has been completed, I can get back to a life of leisure."

"'Loathsome job'?" Hermione smirked. "From what we saw, you were very enthusiastic about it about 30 years ago."

"What?" Suddenly Ann was very sober.

"Yeah, that's right." Ron joined in, for once understanding where Hermione was going. "You didn't have to, but you saved his life."

Ann gaped at them.

"That's right," Harry nodded. "You wouldn't have been breaking any commands if you'd have let him fall from that tree because that's what Abraxas, with the Amulet of Ingvild, told you to do. Snape could have died and you wouldn't have had to face any consequences."

"No, no!" Ann was shaking her head furiously. "That isn't right. I didn't save him because I _wanted _to," her eyes were darting to and from Daedalus, who was staring right at her. "I did it because…because…I knew that he was the one mentioned in the prophecy and he needed to remain alive for the gate to be open!" The words tumbled out in desperation.

"How could you have known that?" Daedalus sneered.

"The prophecy was in my bloody amulet wasn't it?" Ann's voice had become quite shrill. "So now if we've enough of these disgusting accusations, I suggest we all retire immediately!" And she began to storm out of the room.

Daedalus smiled lazily. "It was your idea to come here in the first place," he said.

Ann stopped in her tracks and swivelled around to face them.

"Oh yes," she said lightly, as if accusing her of saving a human of her own volition had never been mentioned. "Fourth stanza of the prophecy:

"The one who carries Balder's light

Within Hödur's abode

Shall be revealed unto the night

As Scorpion to Toad

"Long story short, the Death Eaters know Snape's a traitor and they're planning on extracting revenge. Tomorrow. Thought you might like to know."

And with that she skipped out of the common room.

Daedalus followed sedately behind, muttering, "Absolutely, totally lost it. What an old looney, saving a human, pha! And she calls herself an Ifacaucin…"

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Two more chapters and an epilogue to go! =D


	33. Chapter 32: Making Good

A/N: Whoa, no way, another chapter so soon? Suffice it to say...yes. I am so happy that there are people out there still interested in reading this. Thank you so much for reviewing!

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Making Good

"Dumbledore!" Eight clattering feet flew up the steps to the Headmaster's office.

They were breathing so hard at the top that they hardly heard the muted "Ah, children. Do come in."

Harry took one look at Ron to make sure he had heard correctly before barrelling through the door and into the office they had only just recently vacated.

"Professor Snape's going to be attacked tomorrow by Death Eaters!" Harry blurted out before the Headmaster had time to say anything. It was only after he had said it that he was able to take in the room and realise that Professor McGonagall was also present. She was sitting in a wingback chair and staring at the four with a stern expression. There was, however, a hint of fond exasperation present too.

Dumbledore smiled gently and stood from behind his desk.

"I appreciate your concern for Professor Snape, considering the current situation, but I assure you that your apprehension is misplaced."

"But they're going to attack him! Ann said so!" Neville blurted out, surprising even himself.

Dumbledore held up a hand.

"I am aware of the planned attack, however, I believe there is no cause for concern."

"What are they planning on doing?" Harry looked briefly at Professor McGonagall. Her expression was guarded.

Dumbledore sighed.

"That is not your concern at the-" but he was interrupted.

"_Not our concern?_ We've just been inside his _head_!"

"Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall stood up and stepped closer. Hermione's eyes widened but she did not step back. "While I understand your sentiment you would do well to remember you are in the Headmaster's office, and as such will afford him the utmost respect."

Hermione sighed in resignation.

"I'm sorry Professor, Headmaster, that was wrong of me. But...you weren't in there. You didn't see what it was like."

McGonagall opened her mouth to speak but was silenced by a glance from the Headmaster, who then smiled and bowed his head.

"I understand you are all worried. And perhaps what you saw and experienced was something that no one should have to. Professor Snape included. But I want to assure you that we are taking every precaution to prevent an attack. Wards are being reworked and strengthened as we speak, the ghosts have been put on high alert, as have the paintings, Aurors are in hiding around the perimeter of the school and Hagrid and several cooperative Centaurs are prowling the Forbidden Forest. There are also several other security measures in place, but I think you can appreciate that we are well protected here, including Professor Snape."

The four glanced at each other.

"Oh," was all Hermione could think of to say.

Dumbledore smiled kindly.

"And I think now is probably a perfect time for you all to be off to bed."

The four looked at each other again and took a moment. There was nothing more they could do.

After murmured replies and good-nights, the four Gryffindors filed out the door and down the stairs, leaving Albus and Minerva alone in the office.

McGonagall's stern expression shifted from their departing backs to the Headmaster.

"They have a right to know," she stated firmly.

Albus looked at her before resuming his seat behind the desk.

"They have a right to know what, Minerva?" His voice was a little firmer than when the students had been in the room. "That we are completely unaware how or when this potential attack is liable to take place? They have been through enough."

"No, Albus, they have been through more than enough." Her voice is tense; they've had this conversation before. "You willingly exposed them to danger-"

"They were completely safe."

"Physically! But what about mentally, Albus? They've just been gallivanting through a teacher's mind – _Severus'_ mind! It's not exactly a nature reserve in there, Albus, as you well know."

Albus sighed and massaged his temples with his right hand.

"I had no choice, you know that, Minerva."

"You had a choice," she was looking at him hard. "Your choice was to never leave on that bogus Ministry meeting."

He looked up at her and his expression hardened.

"It was imperative that I not interfere."

Minerva's expression morphed from stern to outright anger.

"Not interfere? He was _pleading_ for you Albus, he needed you."

Albus sighed again and brought his hands up to rest on either side of his head.

"My being here could have jeopardised everything, Minerva, you _know_ that. They needed to do it on their own – no interference. Besides, it was imperative that I find the amulet." He sighed again. "I apologise for not alerting you to what was going on, but this was the only way."

Minerva inclined her head, still with her smouldering expression.

"No, Albus, it was not the only way. It was _your_ way. You may think you're being noble and right but there are _consequences_."

He looked at her with a weary expression, appearing to be caught up in a memory. After a beat he answered.

"I know, Minerva," he said quietly.

She sighed again and pinched the bridge of her nose. They both sat in silence for a few moments before Minerva looked at him again. Her expression was a little softer.

"I'm sorry, Albus, I know you're aware, and I know the kinds of decisions you need to make are difficult. But for Merlin's sake man, we are here to help."

A slow smile spread across his face and he looked at his Deputy with a shadow of fondness.

"And I could not ask for anything more."

IIIIIII

Dumbledore assurance that this issue was being taken care of and please not to worry and everything was going to be fine did not lighten their mood at breakfast the next morning.

"How do you think they're going to attack?" Ron whispered in the Great Hall as they all poked at their breakfast.

Hermione noticed that Harry was absentmindedly rubbing his scar. "Harry, are you alright? It's not…"

Harry shook his head. "I'm sure it's just a headache," he said, turning his attention to Ron. "Who knows, they can't very well just storm the castle, can they? I mean, they wouldn't risk doing that just to get back at Snape."

"Exactly," Hermione was staring hard into her pumpkin juice. "And Dumbledore did say he had increased security. Harry, your head looks like it's really bothering you."

Harry shook his head once again. "It's just an annoying headache, I'll get something from Madam Pomfrey later. We could start looking for those Demons again. Even Dobby hasn't seen them, so they're probably holed up somewhere doing…whatever it is that they do when they're not…working."

Ron was nodding. "I wouldn't be surprised if they knew something more."

But the Demons were nowhere to be found, and neither were Dumbledore or Professor McGonagall. By the time they had established this, Harry decided that his increasingly worrisome head was bad enough to warrant a visit to the hospital wing, and, given their essentially free day, Ron, Hermione and Neville decided to accompany him. Besides, perhaps Madam Pomfrey knew what was going on.

The four were very much surprised when, upon coming to the doors of the hospital wing, they found a note hovering in front of it.

"I regret to inform you that the hospital wing is currently closed and in quarantine due to an outbreak of scrofungulus," the note said in a voice distinctly like the Mediwitch. "Please proceed to Professor Flitwick's office for minor ailments, such as broken bones, or ring the adjacent bell if there is an emergency that cannot be delayed, such as splinching. Thank you for your understanding and I apologise for any inconvenience caused. Madam Pomfrey."

The four looked at each other.

"Scrofungulus?" Neville said incredulously.

"Yeah, not bloody likely," Ron agreed. "Harry, mate, you got that cloak handy?"

Harry did not, as it turned out, but a quiet "Accio invisibility cloak" soon took care of that. This was followed by a semi-joking statement to the effect of "Neville, tell anyone about this and you're toast."

Neville shrugged. "No one will believe me anyway."

"We're not all going to fit," Hermione pointed out. "It was hard enough for the three of us to fit under last time. Harry, you go in first and have a look around, then come back out and tell us what you see. Hopefully it'll be like last time and Madam Pomfrey won't notice the door open."

It was agreed and Harry swung the cloak around his shoulders. Moments later the door opened ever so slowly and Harry slipped into the hospital wing.

The sight was not quite what he was expecting to see.

The room, which was usually lined with beds, bedside tables and portable curtains, was completely void of furniture. There were four occupants in the room; Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall and Madam Pomfrey were all standing in various locations, looking rather concerned. Their concern seemed to be focused on the figure in the middle of the room on the ground; Snape.

The potions Professor was kneeling with his left arm supporting him and his right hand grasping a piece of chalk. He appeared to be furiously writing something on the stone floor. Harry couldn't tell what he was writing, but as he took stock of the room he realised that almost the entire floor and walls as far up as he must have been able to reach were covered in highly intricate designs. Harry recognised various scripts and symbols; runes, cuneiform, alchemy symbols, hieroglyphics and many others he wasn't familiar with. They were etched in white chalk that was interspersed with tinges of red.

Harry's mouth fell open as he realised that the amount of writing on the walls and floor must have taken Snape all night. He looked at his Professor once more and noticed his hair that hung over his face was not just greasy, but dripping with sweat. On closer inspection, he also noticed that the fingertips of his right hand were scraped and bleeding and in a few moments realised the source of the red tinge mixed with the chalk.

Snape had come to the end of the piece he was writing with, but seemed not to have realised and kept trying to write, grinding skin and fingernails onto the stone floor. It was like he was possessed and did not register the pain it must have been causing him. Dumbledore hastened forward, trying to disturb the writings as little as possible. The Headmaster quickly took the chalk from Snape's hand and replaced it with a fresh piece, all the while Snape's hand trying to make marks on the ground.

It was after Dumbledore retreated to his original position that he looked almost directly at Harry and say, "It's alright, Harry, you and the others can come in."

Harry, not really surprised that Dumbledore knew he was there, slipped his cloak off and the other three who had been listening at the door slowly snuck inside.

It was only then that Harry and the others realised how exhausted the adults looked, but no one wanted to say anything simply because they didn't know what to say. Harry was surprised that they were allowed to be privy to such an event as was occurring, but it was such exceptional circumstances that it seemed quite surreal anyway, and normal protocol seemed to have flown out the window a while ago.

Dumbledore spoke to them again once they were in the room. "I was perhaps a little hasty in my prediction of Professor Snape's outcome," he said. "When I returned to the hospital wing after speaking with you last night I realised that he had already begun his notation of the 'key'. I did not, however," he said, motioning to the room, "Realise that it would be such a gargantuan task."

"He's been doing this all night?" Hermione was awed but also sickened by the state of their potions Professor.

At this, Minerva spoke up, "Albus, really, I don't think the children should be witness to this."

"I believe they have already been through a great deal with Professor Snape. Why deny them this closure? Besides," he lowered his voice "It was you who wished them to be informed." Dumbledre kept his eyes on Snape, ready with another piece of chalk for when the man needed it.

At this, Minerva stalked towards the four, and at her intensity Harry thought that she was going to manhandle them out of the hospital wing. Instead, though, she circled them and guided them towards a wall where she conjured four chairs.

"He should be finished soon anyway," she said while motioning them to take a seat, very much, Harry thought, like Mrs Weasley might do with her children. "I don't think there's much more he can write on."

It was true, and Harry found himself hoping that for his Professor's sake, the lack of any more bare space would indeed end his frantic writing.

And it did. Another ten minutes of silence only broken by the tapping and scraping of chalk on stone, Snape finally completed the last symbol. He was kneeling in the centre of the room and had drawn a circle of about a metre in diameter around himself. Inside this circle there were no symbols. It was the only bare space on the floor.

Everyone in the room was silent. Snape's energy seemed to have been truly spent, but only moments later he was struggling to stand, letting the remaining stub of chalk fall to the ground.

Minerva began to stride towards him with a look on her face that again reminded Harry of Mrs Weasley. Dumbledore held up a hand to stop her, and, with a pained expression, she continued no further.

Snape finally made it to his feet, and Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville now found themselves on their own, the tension in the room palpable. No one dared to speak as Snape regained his breath, his weary body having obvious difficulty just holding up its own weight.

Snape's swaying lessened and then stopped. He stood with his back towards Harry and the others, head bent towards the ground. Harry looked at Ron, neither of them daring to say anything as they stood in the oppressive silence.

Snape's voice was soft and slow, but incisive when it came, and Harry was taken aback by how calm and controlled it was. He did not understand the words, but there was no mistaking the power they held.

_"Eecoh eecoh Marchosias,"_

Harry noticed that a cool breeze had begun to emanate from where Snape was standing, radiating outwards to lick at their robes.

_"Eecoh eecoh Amduscias,"_

The breeze picked up, creeping inside their clothes and pulling at their hair.

_"Eecoh eecoh Aypeos,"_

No longer a breeze, a wind began to blow not merely from where Snape was standing, but also around him, so that their robes were being tugged to the side. Harry squinted as the wind sliced behind his glasses and Hermione held her hair back from obscuring her view.

_"Eecoh eecoh Vine,"_

A practical gale now, Harry fell into Ron before righting himself and bracing against the force. Their chairs, now unoccupied, began to topple as the wind picked up incredible speed. Harry, Ron, Hermione and Neville backed up against the wall, grasping each other's cloaks and exchanging alarmed glances.

Dumbledore, McGonagall and Pomfrey were doing likewise, bracing themselves against each other and moving towards the opposite wall as the students. The only one who seemed unperturbed by the veritable windstorm was Snape, who was still standing in the chalk circle, his arms outstretched. He continued with his invocation, the gale increasing with each line.

_"Ni agindu zuek_

_Tiroka hasi ate,"_

The symbols Snape had spent all night drawing started to glow, shining beams of light directed to a point just over Snape's head.

_"Ni agindu zuek_

_Tiroka hasi beste mundu,"_

The symbols shone brighter, causing the dissection of light above Snape to intensify. The concentrated point began to expand, creating an orb of light.

_ "NI AGINDU ZUEK!_

_ "TIROKA!"_

The orb exploded. Harry squeezed his eyes shut and still saw the radiating pulse of light that filled the room. It contracted into a spiralling vortex exactly where the orb had been. Harry opened his eyes and through squinted lids saw Snape staring directly into it. Tendrils of energy projected from both Snape and the Vortex and penetrated each other. They were each, Harry realised, supporting the other. He had never realised before how powerful Snape's magic had been and now, even when the man seemed spent, he had enough reserve to summon that….thing.

And what a thing it was. The wind was still crashing against them and howling into their ears so it took Harry a couple of moments to realise that Hermione was yelling to them.

"It's the door!" She stood wide-eyed and in obvious awe, tendrils of hair flapping around her head. "It's the door to Ifurin!" Ron and Neville were also staring with what Harry could only assume was uncensored admiration, and Harry knew his face held the same expression.

They held their breath. Snape reached for the violently swirling maelstrom of energy and light, stopping only just short of touching it. He whispered the last word, but even so, his voice reverberated around the room as if it was carried and amplified by the wind.

"Ha'em."

They felt rather than heard the crackle of energy emanating from either Snape or the vortex, or most probably both. Everyone in the room felt it resound through their chest and through their head. Harry couldn't remember when he had felt this much magical energy and began to feel light headed. Then the light-headedness turned into another sensation, one that he had a little trouble pinpointing amongst the storm threatening to topple him and the ringing in his ears and the too-bright light and the overwhelming magical energy.

And for a moment it stopped. The wind and the roar and the light and the energy. It was still there, but it all stilled in Harry's perception as he realised what the strange feeling in his chest was. He had certainly felt it before, when he had watched Ron make an excellent move on his broom, or when he heard a Professor announce that the highest achiever in the latest exam was Hermione. Oh, he knew it alright, but he almost didn't believe it. Not here, not now, and not directed at a particular slithery git who made it his profession to make Griffindor's existance a living hell. Because blow-me-down if he was not feeling pride. Pride! For his potion's Professor!

"That's it, I've lost it," he muttered.

But no sooner had the thought occurred than another noise broke through his reverie. It was like a continual, tiny popping sound that reminded him of popping popcorn. He tried to look around the room, but could not make out its source. Another noise broke through the first; it sounded like an armada of aircraft were in the distance and coming closer. A cry from Hermione, though, and he quickly discovered what it was.

It seemed that Voldermort had made good on his promise after all.

* * *

Okay, so I can't really remember where my 'spell' thing came from becaue I've lost my notes from when I was creating it (and I created it over a year ago). But I do remember I stole a bit from a Pagan (Wiccan?) chant (Eko Eko Azarak) and the rest is bastardised from one of the oldest languages known...or was it an African lanugage? Damn, I really want to find my notes now. Oh yeah, and 'Haem' is kind of like 'Amen' or 'So Mote it Be'.

One more chapter and an Epilogue!


	34. Chapter 33: Not Too Atrocious

A/N: So this took longer than I expected to post. One, because I rewrote it (again) and two, because I'm sick. So if it doesn't make sense please let me know.

* * *

Not Too Atrocious

The popping sound, as it turned out, was in fact the noise of a hundred tiny bodies appearing out of nowhere. The sound of apparently-distant aircraft was not distant at all, but in the room with them.

Before their eyes a swarm of small, flying insects were seemingly apparating around Snape. The onlooker's curiosity quickly turned to horror as they watched the first of the swarm dive towards him.

"BEES!" screamed Hermione.

"KILLER BEES!" Neville bellowed in reply.

Dumbledore had run towards Snape, but the force of the still-thundering windstorm kept him back.

Snape, brought abruptly from his trance-like state, covered his face and fell to the ground, swatting manically at the sudden invasion of the tiny beasts. There were at least several hundred, probably closer to a thousand, and the noise they made was almost deafening.

Dumbledore and McGonagall had their wands pointed towards the deadly insects and their mouths moved but Harry couldn't make out what spell they were trying.

The vortex above Snape began to wane in its intensity, but the wind remained just as strong.

Spells flew from the Professors' wands as they attempted to counter the ferocious attack, but to their horror, their magic hit an unseen barrier surrounding the Potions Professor and the attacking swarm. They continued trying but the result was the same. Harry then realised that the barrier was coming from the chalk circle on the floor, the magic Snape had conjured effectively cutting him off from any rescue attempt.

Silent since they had entered the wing, Snape screamed in agony. Oh lord, Harry though, he doesn't even have his wand.

So this was it then? This was what Voldermort had planned? Had he had perhaps known that no-one, not even Dumbledore or the full force of their magic could enter the circle after Snape had conjured it? But how had the bees gotten in? And what could he, Harry, possibly do about it?

The answer was simple and obvious. Nothing. As he watched Dumbledore and McGonagall try again, he knew he was powerless to assuage the incensed bees, and could only watch as Snape writhed in agony. As Dumbledore tried to reach him and as tears slipped down Hermione's face, he joined Ron and Neville in their stare of horror.

But what was he doing? Giving up just like that? Not bloody likely. He was Harry Potter. Harry bloody Potter, damn it. Didn't he have a 'saving people' thing? He had to at least _try_.

He flung himself forward into the maelstrom of wind and was immediately pulled sideways. It had only taken a fraction of a second, but he saw the others copy his exact movements. The four grabbed each other and began moving forward slowly towards their Professor who was now almost completely engulfed by the swarm. There had to be thousands now. Tens of thousands. Oh God, how was he still alive?

They moved forward agonisingly slowly, even as they saw Dumbledore doing the same and motioning for them to get back. But it was as the Headmaster had said, they had come this far, it was only fair to see it to the end.

But the bees kept coming and Snape's cries had all but fallen silent, his frame curled, shins on the ground and face in his lap, arms covering what he could of his head. But it was futile. His body was shaking violently with the incessant onslaught that must have been excruciating and Harry's legs appeared to be getting him nowhere nearer, like a horrible nightmare that disallowed your most basic instincts and reflexes. The vortex above Snape faded further, but frustratingly the wind seemed to be getting stronger. Harry gritted his teeth against it and with the help of Ron, Hermione and Neville, they kept pressing forward.

Harry had read about killer bees once. Also called Africanized bees, his brain randomly brought up the inconsequential fact and he fought a laugh that rose through his throat. Way to be academic Harry, he though. Why not think of something useful?

But all he could think of was that he knew Voldermort had chosen well, that these bees were the most aggressive insects known to man, wizarding or not. That even though their sting was no more potent than a regular honey bee, they showed no mercy and due to their numbers Snape would be dead within a few minutes and there was nothing neither he nor the great Albus Dumbledore could do about it. Attack of the killer bees. Harry almost snorted. Sounded like a very bad horror film.

It was during this intrusive thought that Harry noticed something a little peculiar. Madam Pomfrey, though clutching her wand tightly, was not attempting to do anything with it. Indeed, it appeared as if she was not attempting to do anything save from keep her balance against the gale while Dumbledore and McGonagall pulled her closer. Hermione noticed and followed his gaze.

The three Hogwarts staff members had moved as close as they could without being whipped away, but were still a good two metres from Snape. Dumbledore turned to face Pomfrey and yelled something at her. Something in the back of Harry's mind clicked and said: 'Wrong!' but he couldn't precisely put his finger on it. The Mediwitch faced the vortex and began to say something...the first thing she had said since they entered the Hospital Wing, Harry realised, even though he couldn't make out the words.

Dumbledore nodded, turned to face the vortex and also began yelling. Moments later McGonagall joined in and amongst the deafening wind, their voices fell brokenly onto the student's ears. Hermione's eyes widened and turned to the others.

"They're chanting!" She yelled, and without further instruction, joined in. Harry could now hear what it was they were saying, and after glancing once at Ron and Neville, followed suit.

"_Eecoh eecoh Marchosias,"_

"_Eecoh eecoh Amduscias,_

"_Eecoh eecoh Aypeos,_

"_Eecoh eecoh Vine,"_

The first time through he wasn't used to the words and they caught on his throat. They repeated the chant, again and again, and the words quickly built momentum until he was screaming them along with the others. He could feel a pull from just under his rib cage. He didn't know what it was, but something was certainly happening. He wondered if he was going to be sick as he began the chant for the sixth time.

"_Eecoh eecoh Marchosias,"_

"_Eecoh eecoh Amduscias,"_

"_Eecoh eecoh Aypeos, - "_

But before the last line could be bellowed into the wind the vortex changed. It seemed to grow – to stretch, and there was a disturbance in the centre. The disturbance turned into a shape, small at first, then becoming larger. Oh my God, he thought, it's a head.

And it was, but it did not belong to a human. A black snout strained its way through the centre of the vortex, almost like pushing through a viscous membrane. Its large, hooded eyelids were pulled back, making the apparition appear hideous, but moments later Harry realised what it was. A horse. The head of a horse.

The head was followed by a neck, tendons straining to force its way through the ever-decreasing opening. It seemed to be in pain, like something was squeezing it through an aperture much too small for its bulk. It let out a high scream that made Harry and the others catch their breath.

The bees, for their part, were horribly confused and began to attack the new head with vigour. It bucked and whinnied, but the sound was demonic and cut through their ears. The pain seemed to give it increased vigour, though, for its front legs burst through and landed on the ground, and the extraction of its barrel brought with it the visage of a most diabolic and grotesque rider. Harry was reminded of Hermione's polyjuice transformation gone wrong, but instead of a house cat the rider appeared to have imbibed the essence of lion.

This new apparition looked incensed. It roared and the noise reverberated through the room, boxing their ears and sending them a few steps backwards. The legs of the horse were finally extracted and it stood, looking fearsome and regal simultaneously while its rider let out another roar in response to the attacking swarm. The rider raised a deformed arm that appeared to be clutching a snake and after some unspoken command the insects flew from him, the horse and Snape, and formed what appeared to be solid, vibrating orb above their heads. A growl from the lion-creature and a line of bees began to move from the sphere directly into the vortex, like a ball of twine being unravelled and fed through a needle.

While this continued the rider gazed around the room with terrifyingly piercing eyes. They landed on the knot of Hogwarts' staff and contorted into a look of utter disgust.

"AHA'NIHESHKA," it bellowed, unearthly voice filling the cavern with its weight. Madam Pomfrey placed a hand beside her mouth, as to throw her voice further, and yelled something unintelligible.

Seconds later the wind died down to a moderate breeze, its sudden departure almost toppling the students as much as its presence.

"What?" The rider appeared, if anything, annoyed.

"Oh," Pomfrey removed her hand. "I was just saying you might want to turn that down a bit." Her voice this time was easily understandable, but Harry and the others still stared at her in shock.

The lion's gaze continued to penetrate the Mediwitch, still looking highly appalled.

"Aha'niheshka," it repeated, spitting the name. "I might have known. Are you incapable of doing _anything_ right?"

"What?" Ron looked to Hermione, the only one who seemed to know what on earth was going on. Hermione just gave them all a wide eyed look that seemed to say, 'blimey, that was a little unexpected'.

Dumbledore and McGonagall had let go of Pomfrey who took two tentative steps forward.

"Now look here," she tried her most authoritative voice, hands on hips. "Really, it wasn't all me. Just because I'm standing here. I ask you, pfft. After everything I've had to put up with. Ann do this, Ann do that, Ann look after the boy, Ann kill the boy. I mean honestly, don't I deserve some latitude at least?

The lion growled and the spiel was halted.

"Alright, have it your way." She quickly retreated.

Hermione stepped forward, perhaps bolstered by the Ann/Pomfrey speech.

"Excuse me!" Ron stepped towards her and hissed "Hermione!", but she ignored him.

"I don't know if it's come to your attention, but there's a man on the floor in front of you in some agony. Aren't you going to _do_ something about it?"

And it was true. Snape hadn't moved from his position on the floor, his breathing coming in agonising wheezes. He still had his head and face covered, but they could see the welts appearing on his hands, red and angry.

The rider and horse looked down at the man, and their coordinated movements made it look almost as if they were one being. Perhaps they were. The horse snorted and the rider sneered in disdain, fixing his gaze back on Hermione.

"Why?"

Dumbledore stepped forward with a serene look on his face almost completely inappropriate for the situation.

"King Vine," he intoned in a most respectful manner, even bowing slightly. "We thank you immensely for answering our summons. Your reputation is legendary and your power is unmatched. We are humbled to be in your presence."

The rider sniffed. "Yes. Well..."

Harry smirked. Flattery could get you everywhere, apparently. Ann transformed from her visage as Pomfrey into the little girl that had so recently been imbibing butterbeers with gusto.

"Yes, yes, you're awesome." She could have been discussing the weather. "But the stupid little human is right. We'd better fix him or the door will close and that will be that. You looked a little...strained, getting through."

Demonic eyes again narrowed in her direction but she either didn't notice or care.

"I do not...heal." It sneered and drew itself up regally as if such a suggestion were incredibly beneath him.

"But I do," Dumbledore's voice was low and calm and wise and wow he did that voice well. He stepped closer to the almost invisible shield of magic and gestured to Ann, eyebrows raised.

Ann sighed dramatically and rolled her eyes, stomping towards Snape and the newly materialised beast as only a seven-year old child can. With overplayed boredom, she stuck her hand against the shield, which rippled slightly at her touch, and held the other out by her side. The rider growled with scorn, but moments later held out the snake, which touched the opposite side of the shield from Ann. They both looked expectantly at Dumbledore who proceeded to hold his wand to Ann's outstretched hand and mutter a string of low syllables.

It took only a moment for a visible tendril of magic to crawl over Ann's arm, around her neck and towards the snake. Another moment and it breached the shield, using the demons as a conduit for its passing. Harry watched in awe as the magic from Dumbledore's wand ended up falling from the horse's head and into their Potions Professor. Dumbledore held the chant and slowly the welts from Snape's hand faded and his breathing eased.

After a full minute Dumbledore broke the connection and Ann staggered a few steps. "Blimey," she muttered, putting a hand to her head. "Butterbeer and magical conduits first thing in the morning...what a rush."

Dumbledore knelt down just outside of the shield and spoke in a low tone. "I'm sorry, my boy, but it's almost over now."

Snape slowly uncurled himself to look at the Headmaster. Though he had been healed, his eyes were still blood-shot and seemed unable to focus properly. Dumbledore gave an almost imperceptible, but nevertheless encouraging nod. Snape mirrored the gesture, resolve forming in his eyes and he stood stiffly.

Snape looked at the strange apparition towering above him with nothing more than mild surprise, before turning towards the still shrinking energy vortex and inhaled deeply. Upon exhale, he raised his hands once more, and the swirling doorway grew in size and strength. The wind did not resume as Harry had expected it to, but instead remained slight and almost comforting, as if telling him that it was almost over. Almost.

The rider – King Vine, apparently – began to chant in a low, ethereal tone. There were no words, however, and the sounds seemed to fuse together to become a low undulation of vowels that echoed around the room. All eyes were fixed on him until a figure came striding into the room with as much pomp as he could apparently muster, shattering the awed atmosphere quite entirely. The new figure came to a halt beside Ann.

"So," Daedalus said, keeping his voice low enough so not to be noticed by the rider, yet loud enough to be obnoxious. "Are you done saving humans yet? Can we _please_ go home?"

Ann's eyes narrowed and she resolutely did not look at him.

"Saving humans? What a load of crock," she crossed her arms in contempt, and then after a moment of contemplation added, "Pillock."

Daedalus snorted.

King Vine's intonation increased in magnitude, heralding the resumption of the wind. This time, however, the windows flew open and the airstream escaped from the confines of the Hospital Wing.

Harry moved towards Dumbledore. The wind wasn't as strong as before but it still made moving and talking difficult.

"What's he doing?" He raised his voice to be heard. Dumbledore smiled.

"I could be mistaken, for it is not unusual that I am, but I believe he is calling them home."

"Them?"

And that's when they saw it, far over the top of the Forbidden Forest. Wraiths of light, really, were the only way to describe what they were looking at. There were at least fifty, no, a hundred, perhaps more, flying towards Hogwarts, all different colours and sizes. Within moments they had cleared the treetops and flew into the room at phenomenal speed.

Some were as large as four men and some were as small as chickens. Their energy spilled from their ethereal forms, filling the room with a kaleidoscope of colours and strange, high frequency vibrations, making the onlookers shudder.

Without warning the vortex exploded. At least that's what it seemed like to Harry. There was a blinding light that shot out from the circle, causing him and the others to turn away at the sudden onslaught. When they turned back it took a few moments for them to realise what had happened. The shield was gone.

Almost instantly the wraiths flew, one by one, into the mouth of the vortex.

It only took a few minutes, the barely-there figures slipping around each other before falling in line and being sucked into the mouth of, what Hermione had called the door.

One by one they slipped inside. King Vine looked as satisfied as a lion-man sitting on a black horse could probably look, Harry reasoned.

It took a full minute. Then they were gone.

It was almost anticlimactic.

The wind had dropped down to a very light breeze and silence filled the room for a moment.

"So it was a rescue mission," Hermione broke the stillness and looked at Ann. "Opening the gate and all of that. It was so those that were trapped here on this side could go home."

Ann shrugged. "I guess. It looked like there was more than one Ifacaucin in the service of your Death Eatery people," she looked at Daedalus.

He looked back at her and humphed. "Well I could have told you that. Not all were from them, but a fair few. I daresay they'll be happy to be home. Not that the adventures weren't invigorating, but the Death Eaters did like to take out their frustrations on any being, human or otherwise."

Harry thought he knew exactly what the Demon was talking about and almost began to feel sorry for him. Almost.

"So there you go," Daedalus said with an air of finality, again bringing all attention back to himself. "It was a pleasure trying to destroy you all. I daresay I enjoyed myself quite a bit, but I really must be off. Feel free to consult me for legal advice. My prices are not too high, considering my superior station. I was advisor to many nobility, you know."

"Bugger off," Ann deadpanned.

"Very well, I wish you all adieu." And with that he bowed low, although what for Harry couldn't figure out. A moment later and his now-ethereal form floated to the boundary and disappeared into it.

Which left Ann. Who, not to be outdone by a young Efreet, thought it best to also make a parting address.

"Well, I'll miss it, you know. Not the 'saving humans' thing, that I could have done without, but being in human form does have certain benefits, I must say. Butterbeer being one of them."

"I must extend a great thanks to you," Dumbledore came forward and stood before her. "Without you, none of this would have been possible. You truly are a great and noble being." His mouth twitched slightly, but Harry's was already formed into a smirk. Right.

"Yes, well, I am glad you recognise my magnificence." Dumbledore quirked an eyebrow. Ann squirmed slightly. Her mouth may have twitched also. "But…I suppose I have to say you're not too atrocious yourself."

And with that she transformed into a glowing wraith of light and sped off into the vortex.

Ron was shaking his head. "They're all barking mad," he muttered.

And that was that. King Vine took his leave without any preamble and Snape let the swirling energy abate until it became nothing. The breeze died down and the pulsation of energy Harry had been feeling disappeared, leaving only his heart throbbing in his chest.

Wow.

Snape turned to face them, his eyes beginning to roll into the back of his head, arms sagging by his side and legs barely supporting his weight.

"We done?" he asked, his voice uncharacteristically weary and almost pleading.

Before anyone could answer, the Hospital Wing doors flew open and one stern looking Poppy Pomfrey – the original – strode towards them, taking in the graffitied room and its occupants.

"What the bloody hell have..." Her eyes fell on Snape and she immediately hurried towards him.

Poppy reached the Potions Master just after Dumbledore, each grabbing an arm before he could fall. McGonagall had conjured a bed to return and pulled back the covers.

"Yes, my boy," the Headmaster said, grasping thin elbows and leading the exhausted man towards the bed. He smiled his trademark smile, only slightly dulled by his own fatigue and relief. He looked at the students and it was obvious his next words were meant for every occupant in the room.

"We're done."

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A/N: Woot. That was the last chapter. But you have questions? Well, at least I hope you have questions, and I hope they're all answered in the epilogue. And if they're not, well, those are the bits you're supposed to work out for yourself. Or I just forgot to explain it...either way...

Please please please review. - See that? That's me begging and I'm not remotely ashamed. I really really want 100 reviews. It's on my bucket list. Promise.

If you like, you can Wikipedia "Vine (demon)". Ta da! He's not mine but I have a feeling he's public domain...


	35. Epilogue: A Matter of Perspective

A/N: My exams are finished, my fic is finished - what am I going to do with my life? Oh yeah, everything else I've been putting off for months...

Thank you so much to those who have reivewed! You are all wonderfully awesome!

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A Matter of Perspective

Ahhh. It's good to be home. Not that galloping around a human's head wasn't bags of fun, mind, but it certainly is nice to not have to worry about being ripped to shreds in copious amounts of agony.

I would describe my home to you, if I could, but human minds are extremely simple and you would probably be unable to process the appearance of such an Otherworld, so I won't bother.

I've spoken to the others who told me all about their own adventures, about the Malfoy who had finally realised us Ifacaucins still existed and had decided to use us in their own little war. It would have been quite exciting, come to think of it. I almost regret missing that potential experience, one side or the other.

So Balder, the light, is now on equal footing with Höder, the dark. Neither has the upper hand, at least where we are concerned.

I hope you're happy.

It's what you wanted, wasn't it? For it all to be on even footing? For there to be no unfair advantages? Seems like it was all ordained, doesn't it? Well it wasn't. It was planned. Not by me, of course, I hardly even get the memos. But by others who are that much higher in the hierarchy of our people. Not even Daedalus knew, but then again, he's still very young.

You know what they say, 'the best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry.' It may be misquoted, but it's true. So it is therefore lucky that Ifacaucins are neither mice nor men and due to this very fact the plan proceeded flawlessly.

Humans. So predictable.

Just as a brief aside, I was amongst 372 Ifacaucins who were able to return home to Ifurin. What? You think that we're so heartless our leaders would leave 372 Ifacaucins stranded in _your_ world? Please, who do you take us for? You?

Since returning, I have watched several times the goings-on of Hogwarts. Not because I care, of course, just because I'm curious.

Immediately following our return to Ifurin Severus fell into a deep sleep. I suppose you could call it a coma, really, but sometimes that's just semantics. During this time, he began to mend the broken walls in his mind and replace all the memories to where they should be. Or where he wanted them to be. Re-wrapping some, rearranging others, re-chaining the Drecchen. Re-establishing old beliefs and superstitions. It is these, I suppose, that keep a human sane. Even when they're wrong.

I have to say, Daedalus did quite a number on him, but the Efreet, as I have mentioned, is young and inexperienced. Now if I had been given the task of finding the key in Severus' mind, the repair job would have taken years. As it was, the human managed it within a month. The first lot of memories he lost, though, are gone for good. Those had fallen into the Forgotten without being cocooned and had dissolved like a tube of Berocca in Pepsi. There were a fair few months there too, and gaps like that are difficult to cover. He did it like only an expert spy can.

Very convincingly.

I've not entered back into his mind, obviously, but I would put my money on his barriers being even stronger than before. Kind of like the fire of London, really. Burn it to the ground and watch it grow with proper foundations and logistical planning. I watched London burn. It would have been fun but for all the smoke. I could hardly see a thing.

Albus has hidden the amulet of Ingvild. I suppose he's kept it in case we come back, although if I have anything to do with it, that won't happen. Daedalus firmly believes there will be a time, but if this is so, please do not take up his offer of legal advice. The boy has more of a penchant for manipulation and subsequent chaos than I do, and that is indeed saying something. The way Albus hid it is quite ingenious, really, and I don't think any Witch or Wizard will ever find it where it is. To be perfectly honest, though, I'm not sure how safe a muggle safety-deposit box is from other muggles, judging by the frequency they're broken into in films. But I suppose we'll just have to see…

My amulet, my home for quite a number of years, is currently being prepped for display by the 'Department of Ancient Egypt and Sudan' at the British Museum. It has been the centre of several muggle papers debating its purpose, and even the subject of several newspaper articles. The name Aha'niheshka will live on in the land of the humans, and the thought makes me quite smug.

Daedalus never had a specialised amulet. So there.

The children, pustules of inconsequential life forms as they are, told no one about their time spent in their Professor's head. I would have, if I were in their position. There are definite gloating possibilities available. But even when Severus returned to teaching, they said nothing. Even when he resumed his normal, snarky presence in potions class and yelled at Neville for being an imbecile and snorted at Hermione for being a know-it-all and outright insulted Harry and Ron in the corridors, they said nothing.

I have to admire their resolve. I would have popped him one.

Neville even kept the commotion in the corridor with McGonagall a secret from the other three, never mind anyone else. Well, except his parents that is. Humans do like to get things off their chest.

Except maybe Hermione, who also has a secret. Harry was right to doubt her when she insisted that she had merely fallen from the bridge and awoken in the hospital wing. Drecchen are, after all, the personification of a terrible memory, and you don't come away unscathed after an encounter like that. But that sordid tale is best kept for another time. I don't have all day to chat, you know.

But they're disappointed, I know that for certain. In just a few weeks they're back to hating him. And that's the way he likes it, because hating is far more preferable than pity. Too bad he doesn't realise that pity's not what's on their mind.

Not that I care, of course.

Still, though, I know him well enough to catch a thought ruminating through his head as he falls asleep at night, and each night it's the same thought. Four small, ill-pronounced words, almost completely detached from the original speaker, which continue to play over and over. He could have gotten rid of them. Chucked them into the Forgotten – the memory's small enough – but I can tell he can't bring himself to do it. He hides them from Albus and even from himself, most of the time, but in the early hours of the morning when he's just starting to drift off to sleep and the Drecchen are making their continuing struggle for freedom, he takes them out of their hiding place and sets them on repeat.

"_Hey, 's'all right, mate_."

And to top it off, because it's just too glorious not to and when you're already indulging in one childish fantasy you might as well go the whole hog, the ever-so-faint, not-quite-sure-if-it-happened memory of a soft hand smoothing his hair. May he never remember where it came from.

So things return to the way they were. Well, almost. Albus has some pretty impressive defences standing guard around the Potions Professor since the Death Eater's last attack. How he was discovered is also another story, of course, but I wouldn't be surprised if those defences were needed; the way some Slytherins look at him now is irksome to say the least.

It was a great idea, though, to send in the bees – Africanized ones, too; probably an extra special hybrid created by the Death Eaters, let's call them _A. m. Voldermortius_, shall we? It was Lucius who had, after trawling through his father's 'demon' collection, realised that when conjuring a gateway to our World a space would be created within the shield; a space that was unique in that it was not actually part of one world or the other. Which meant it wasn't part of Hogwarts. Which meant it wasn't subjected to the anti-apparation charm. Which meant they could, with the help of their Ifacaucins, remotely apparate ten thousand merciless insects into it.

Unconventional? Yes. Brilliant? Absolutely. If it had worked. Once again; mice and men.

So the bees were sucked into our world. How brilliant is that? Ten thousand little minds to control - they can come quite in handy. I've named mine Bob.

But in Hogwarts the cycle continues. Exams are being set and sat and marked. Teenage romances are rife and chaste kisses are being stolen in the corridors. Essays are handed in too late or too short. The first years are learning to ignore Peeves. And the war is still brewing.

Each day brings them closer and closer to the inevitable. Each day the tension in Dumbledore builds as he puts events in motion that will ultimately lead to one of the greatest battles Hogwarts has ever seen. Or perhaps not, really, because Hogwarts has seen a lot.

But it's all completely inconsequential because I really couldn't care less.

Humans, Wizarding or not, will continue to have their little wars and people will fall and people will not fall, and then there will be peace and then it will start all over again. I know. I've watched it happen.

You even say you've learned from it. You even say 'never again'. But it will happen again. Inevitably, because whatever it is that you will 'never forget' eventually gets forgot and that's really all there is to it.

That and the destabilisation of the economy due to some imbeciles who have their heads too far up their intestines to even recognise the situation.

We Ifacaucins recognise your situations. We just don't care about them.

And now I stand, watching them go about their daily lives. Some scoff, they think I've spent too long with the humans, that I've become soft in the head, moving on a bit with age. Sentimental. I tell them to bugger off. I've seen this far, I have to know how it ends.

Months pass. Years, decades. Centuries. Time moves differently here. And I am still watching. Lowly as they are, they never lose their entertainment value.

And the cycle continues.

Again and again and again and again. Stupid, stupid, stupid humans. If they could only see it from my perspective. But that's what happens when your lifespan lasts for the blink of an eye. There is no time for perspective.

Do you want my advice? I'm going to give it to you anyway. And remember that this comes from someone much older and wiser and infinitely better looking than yourself. A great human, at least by your standards, once said, "Be careful whose advice you buy, but, be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia, dispensing it is a way of fishing the past from the disposal, wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts and recycling it for more than it's worth."

He obviously had no idea of what he was talking about. But his advice was generally sound. (Well, most of it was. Only a few people should ever attempt to dance or sing. I've watched enough of Britain's Got Talent to know that that's certainly true.)

So. My advice. Are you ready for it? It's not new and it's not groundbreaking, but humans sometimes need things drummed into them as elegantly as a rogue bludger. Well, here it is: are you paying attention? Please do because humans tend to have an attention span that peaks at the age of three. Okay, ready? Check it out – Reality's bollocks. Perception's the bomb. Dr Phil said it a bit differently but I like my version better. Either way, it's true.

Trust me. I'm a Jinn.

And that's it. That's my contribution to your miserable little world and I'm glad to have taken my leave of it. So I bid you adieu and hope that we never cross paths again. Although if we do it certainly won't be my fault so let's just clear that up right away.

Oh, and one more thing.

Don't take life too seriously.

You won't get out alive.

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~fin

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**A/N: **So we didn't get another Snape perspective. Nope. His mind's buttoned up too tight for that now. We can't get in any more, I'm afraid.

OMG, I can't believe I'm finished. This has taken an inordinate amount of time to write and post and I am sincerely sorry for it. I promise I will never again begin to post a story unless it has been fully written.

I have learned so much from writing this fic, both from myself and all the lovely reviews I have received. One is to always keep your research, because there's stuff that I wrote years ago based on a lot of reading I did, but I can't trace it back to its source because I can't remember where I put it. Another is writing style. I really need to brush up on grammar and English usage in general. And there's a whole lot of other stuff you probably don't want to know about, so I won't bore you with it.

Just so you know, I'll be going over the story at some point and correcting the grammar and spelling issues that have been pointed out to me. There's still time so if you've picked anything up, (including plot holes) please let me know! This might take a while, though, since I'm supposed to be doing the same thing to my thesis. That I wrote four years ago. Yup...


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